Potions and Pomegranates
by tonksinger
Summary: With Voldemort dead, Severus finds himself back at Hogwarts, chasing away dreams filled with green eyes and red hair. But Lily was not the only interesting woman with green eyes, as he finds out when he encounters Sasha Cupris, one of his new students. AU
1. Chapter 1: First Night

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! This is my first fanfic, so please give feedback! If I'm doing something wrong I want to know about it, so I can fix it and not do it again. Thank you to my beta, moonrevel, who is awesome. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Really wish I did, though, 'cause then I'd be J. K. Rowling and I would be a filthy rich genius. **

Chapter One: First Night 

Severus Snape stared at the stone ceiling of his bedchamber and cursed his mind for being overly active. His mind _knew_ that the only way he would be able to teach the next day was with sleep, and yet it refused to let him have any. His long hair was a greasy mess from tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, and the comfort of the freshly-laundered duvet and sheets seemed to mock his restlessness.

He was remembering the whispers that had traveled through the Great Hall when Minerva introduced him as the "new" Potions teacher. The looks of fear and hatred that had been shot his way had killed any appetite he had possessed at the time, and he had spent the rest of the feast staring at his half-finished food and wondering if he would ever shake the epithet of _murderer_.

His mind went to the flask of Sleeping Draught that was in a cupboard in his office. A small dose, just this once… _No. You know what lies down that road. _A small dose "just this once" led to the same the next night, and the one after, until it was impossible to sleep without it. Sleeping Draught was out of the question. He had dealt with addictions in the past and had no desire to repeat the experience.

With an oath, Snape sat up. He glared at the bare stone walls of his room, taking in the sparse furnishings and cold fireplace. Perhaps a walk through the castle would clear his head- or at least tire him out a bit. Raking his fingers through his hair, he got out of bed, slid his feet into his slippers, and reached for the black silk dressing-gown that hung on the back of the door. Unfortunately, it snagged on the wrought-iron hook that it hung on, and he nearly ripped out the collar as he yanked at it. Jerking it on with ill grace, he grabbed his wand from his nightstand and shoved it in his pocket. No sense going anywhere unarmed, especially after the animosity he had felt from the student body earlier.

Severus slipped out into the cold stone hall that led to his dungeon room. He needed no light to find his way along the dark corridor and up the stairs that led to the main hall, having walked the way countless times since his appointment as Potions master at Hogwarts.

The chill of the dungeon hall soothed him, and he ran his long fingers along the stone walls, feeling the patterns of cracks, bumps and crevices. His slippers found the worn shallows of the stairs where many footsteps over hundreds of years had worn a path down to the dungeons, (and, presumably, back up again). These cold, damp, musty-smelling corridors had been his sanctuary as a student and were now his kingdom as a teacher.

But even thick stone walls could not protect him from his past.

Suddenly, Severus found only empty air beneath his fingertips. That and a sudden freshening of the air and a feeling of open space told him that he was in the Entrance Hall. A susurrus of soft breathing, punctuated by the occasional snore, reminded him of the moving portraits that adorned the walls of Hogwarts, all of whom were now sleeping.

He never really thought he would be back at Hogwarts, teaching Potions- especially after what happened with Dumbledore. But a posthumous look through the Pensieve at the trial had saved Snape's life, as the jurors watched the memories which detailed his true role in the war against Voldemort. Fully acquitted, he had gone back into the world with his head held high, only to find that no one wanted to hire a former Death Eater. When Minerva had come to him with the offer of his old job at Hogwarts, he had been close to destitution and in no position to refuse.

He caught himself going over his own past, and allowed himself a wry smile. If he didn't want to spend all his time thinking about what had happened, he was going to need a diversion- perhaps a particularly Potter- or Longbottom- like student to torment.

A glimmer of light where there should have been darkness interrupted his reminiscing. Peering down the hall, he noticed that one of the huge, wooden doors to the Great Hall was open and dim light was spilling out. There was a man-shaped shadow on the floor, and as Severus approached he saw that someone was leaning against the doorframe- a tall man, though not as tall as Severus, with ragged hair and a posture that suggested weariness. Suddenly, the man cocked his head, as though he had heard something, and turned towards Severus.

_Damn._ It was Remus Lupin. Of all the people to run into during a bout of insomnia, it had to be a werewolf.

Severus considered the appearance of the other man as he advanced down the hall. Remus' dressing-gown looked to be in slightly better shape than the rest of his robes, but it was still patched in a few places, and his slippers had holes in the toes. It had not been an easy few years for werewolves, no matter which side of the war they fought on, and Remus was sporting more grey hair and less weight than he used to. Like Severus, the opportunity to take up his old job at Hogwarts had been the only employment he could find.

Remus smiled slightly, and pressed a finger to his lips, inclining his head towards the interior of the Great Hall. Wondering what the hell the man was playing at, Severus stalked towards him as quietly as he could, and as he neared, he became aware of a voice, singing in a lovely soprano. He reached the doorway, ignoring Remus' amiable nod, and looked inside the Great Hall.

A girl stood in the center of a circle of conjured flames, their blue light flickering off her waist-length blonde hair. She was short, but curvaceous, as was revealed by the blue, form-fitting tank top she wore, along with blue flannel pajamas. Her feet were bare, though if she was bothered by the cold stone floor, she showed no signs of it.

But it was her voice which caught Snape's attention; a clear, lyric soprano which she was currently using to sing a sparkling Italian song. Of all the genres of Muggle music in the world, the only one he really cared for was opera. It was complex and had to be done just right for it to work- much like potions, come to think of it. Half closing his eyes, he just listened. _Pure tone_, he thought._ Shimmery, almost delicate, but not breathy. _Although anyone who knew him would laugh at the idea, Severus had a deep appreciation for a beautiful voice, and this one had him enthralled. He winced slightly when she hit a flat note, but she continued without pause, gliding over the mistake.

A tap on his shoulder broke his reverie. Startled, and trying to hide it, he looked at Remus, who stepped to the side of the door, beckoning. Reluctantly, Snape followed him until they were about ten feet away from the door, at which point Remus stopped and turned to him.

"Good evening, Severus," he said in that irritating mild manner of his, a slight smile on his face. "It is… unsettling being back, is it not?" His calm, tired eyes met Snape's, silently asking an uncomfortable question.

Snape would not have admitted for the world that it felt uncomfortable to be back teaching potions at Hogwarts, and that seeing Minerva seated in what had been Dumbledore's chair was even more so. Instead he silkily replied, "Actually, Remus, returning to the place where I taught for sixteen years is not unsettling. Encountering a werewolf prowling the school at night, on the other hand, is." He crossed his arms and leaned back a little, watching Remus for a reaction to the insult, but a resigned look was all he got. Deciding that he had all year to bait the other man about his lycanthropy, Snape changed the subject. "Who's the nightingale?" he asked, inclining his head towards the Great Hall.

Remus shrugged. "Unfortunately, having arrived only today, I don't know any of the students. I assume you're in the same predicament?" he added, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

Snape glared at him. "So it would seem," he replied, coldly.

A slight sigh escaped Remus. "Ah, well. It can't be helped. Shall we?" He indicated the Great Hall with an arm.

Snape did not deign to reply, but simply swept past him. He heard Remus follow.

When the two men again reached the doorway, they were brought up short by what they saw. As the girl sang, images swirled in the air in front of her. The ballad described the tale of a wounded knight who needed a witch to heal him, and it was being played out in bold, flowing streaks of blue. Glittering blue lines illustrated the song, flowing easily from one scene to another, but always keeping to a simple, almost primitive, style. Snape reflected that, because of the simple style of the pictures, one could watch the images, but still be able to listen to the song.

As the final images (the knight riding away over the horizon), faded with the last notes of the song, Remus began to applaud. The girl gasped, and whirled around, raising her wand. As her eyes took in two professors standing in the doorway, Snape saw her lips form what looked like, "Oh, bugger."

Remus walked towards her, still applauding softly. Snape followed, watching the girl's eyes flick back and forth between him, Remus, and the door to the entrance hall.

Remus came to a halt in front of the girl, who was flushing slightly but met his eyes. She was pretty by most standards; full lips, big eyes, fair skin, but with a strong nose that prevented her from looking like a porcelain doll.

"Er…I'll just add a detention to my schedule, shall I, sirs?" she said, her mouth curling into a weak smile that revealed one or two crooked teeth. Severus was surprised at her low, throaty voice- given the singing he had just heard, he had expected it to be high and fluty.

"Two, if you continue to be impertinent," he snapped, waspishly, before Remus could respond with something annoyingly understanding. The other man shot him a look, frowning slightly at what he no doubt considered to be unnecessary sharpness, and turned back to the girl, giving her a slight smile.

"I'm afraid so, Miss…?" he said, trailing off.

"Cupris. Sasha Cupris," she answered, shifting her weight uncomfortably under the gaze of the two men.

"Well, Miss Cupris, while you have a beautiful singing voice, this is neither the time nor the place to practice it. You should be in bed," Remus said, gently reproving her. She turned slightly pink and looked at the floor. "I do have a question to ask you, however." She glanced back up at him, meeting his kind, brown eyes. "What was the spell you used to produce the images during that ballad? I have never seen it before."

Sasha looked startled that a professor, especially one who had just given her detention for being out of bed, would ask this of her. "Er, well, you wouldn't have seen it before, sir, because I created it." She glanced at Remus, and, seeing the encouraging look on his face, continued. "It's just a piece of magic that reacts with the images my mind produces when I think of the words. The magic takes its form from those images, and so illustrates the song," With a slight grin, she added, "It's what I did during History of Magic in my fourth year."

"Fascinating," Severus interjected, dripping sarcasm. "Unfortunately, inventing a spell to make pretty pictures does not excuse you from being in trouble. What house are you in?"

"Ravenclaw, sir."

Snape raised a black eyebrow. "Given that, I am surprised that you chose this place as a nighttime conservatory. It has a central location, and there are any number of reasons why a teacher would visit it at night. Not a particularly _clever_ choice, if you wanted to remain undiscovered. Ten points from Ravenclaw, for unaccountable foolishness," he added, smirking at the abashed look on her face. "And I suggest, for your own good, that you not concoct spells during _my _class."

For a moment she stared at the floor, and then she looked up at him.

Brilliant green eyes filled Severus' vision, and he felt time stop. He sank into their depths and found himself in her mind, seeing himself through her eyes.

_Tall, imposing, maybe even a little intimidating. That hooked nose gave him a hawkish look, but it was not quite unattractive. Add those glittering black eyes and curtains of long, black hair and he was rather striking…_

Severus yanked himself out of the girl's mind, his own reeling from the fact that she didn't find him terrifying or repulsive, but almost attractive. Hastily, he studied her face for any sign that she had noticed his brief use of Legilimency, but he saw nothing that would indicate that- no fear, no confusion or shock.

A moment later, Remus' soft, hoarse voice broke in, drawing both of their gazes.

"Severus, I believe the Ravenclaw dormitory is between here and your quarters. Would you be so good as to escort Miss Cupris there? I'm afraid I was distracted,"- here he shot an amused look at Sasha, - "from my earlier goal, and therefore have not acquired the hot chocolate I was craving," Remus said, mild as ever, turning his head to look at Snape.

Still off-balance from what he had found in her mind, Snape didn't trust his voice to hold at that moment; so he nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and strode towards the door. He heard quick footsteps behind him, and smirked as he pictured the petite girl half-jogging to keep up with his long strides. He made no effort to slow down, and even increased his speed up the staircases that led to her dorm. A few of the lighter sleepers among the portraits awoke at his footsteps, and their scolding followed him as he walked

He kept up his swift pace all the way to the section of wall that guarded the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower. When he finally stopped and looked back at Cupris, she was about fifteen feet behind him. Panting slightly, she stopped next to him, and he caught the faintest scent of sweat coming from her. After catching her breath, she approached the stone wall and knocked on it.

A regal female voice inquired, "Which is the more dangerous, a perfect archer or an unsure one?"

Cupris seemed to consider this for a moment and then said, "An unsure one, for you cannot dodge something if you can't predict where it will strike."

"An acceptable answer," the voice replied, and the wall swung inwards, revealing a large, sparsely furnished common room with huge, arched windows that looked out over the now- darkened grounds. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, but the air smelled of light incense, not smoke. Cupris turned back to Severus and said, "Goodnight, sir." Severus sneered in reply, turned on his heel, and left as swiftly as he had come.


	2. Chapter 2: Second Opinions

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! This is my first fanfic, so please give feedback! If I'm doing something wrong I want to know about it, so I can fix it and not do it again. Thank you to my beta, moonrevel, who is awesome. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Really wish I did, though, 'cause then I'd be J. K. Rowling and I would be a filthy rich genius.**

Chapter 2: Second opinions

Severus sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his long hooked nose, hoping for some relief from the headache that was creeping up on him. Why were children's voices so high and grating? It was only lunch, and he already was wondering why he had ever wanted to teach the little brats. It certainly wasn't as if they wanted to learn, or, indeed, were capable of it. Already, he had had three students who promised to equal Neville Longbottom in their incompetence.

As he neared the staff entrance of the Great Hall, he braced himself for the cacophony of noise that awaited him inside. Sure enough, as he pulled open the door, the clamor of close to a thousand voices hit his overtaxed ears like a bomb dropping, and he winced. Irritated, he stalked to his seat at the staff table, between Professor Sinistra and Professor Lupin. Remus glanced up as Snape sat down, but, seeing the look on his colleague's face, decided to forego a verbal greeting, and simply nodded. Snape, true to form, ignored him.

After pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice, and adding a few drops of a Headache solution, Snape began to eat. As he ate, he considered what his afternoon looked like. _Second year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins- looks like someone finally realized that putting Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same class is unwise- and then the N.E.W.T. class. _ He stared out onto the sea of heads, toying with his goblet. _Slughorn's standards were so low that he probably let in anyone who didn't actually melt their cauldron during O.W.L.s. Still, maybe there's someone…_Because the cursed werewolf was teaching this year, Minerva had "requested" that Snape make the Wolfsbane Potion for him, as he had the last time Remus was at the school. While brewing the potion wasn't really difficult, it _was_ quite time-consuming. Snape had been debating whether to draft a reasonably competent student to make the simpler potions- mostly medicinal ones that went straight to Poppy- that were part of his duties. _Or simply to take care of any annoying, unpleasant business that I don't feel like doing myself_, he thought with a smirk.

The bell rang, and he watched the mass exodus of students as they raced back to their rooms to gather their books for afternoon classes. After they had all gone, Snape sat, and drank in the beautiful silence.

* * *

"What d'you mean, you've got detention? It's only the first day back!" Jas Hustons, a tall brunette, stared down at her friend in frustration. "How on earth did you get it?"

"I didn't mean to," Sasha snapped back. "I was practicing my singing in the Great Hall last night, and Lupin and Snape caught me!" She leaned against the dungeon wall behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. She, Jas, and ten other students were lined up in the dungeon corridor outside of Snape's classroom, waiting for their N.E.W.T. Potions class to begin. "Anyway, it's not too bad."

Jas gave her a look like she was mad. "Not too bad? I already told Sean and Tobias that we would meet them Saturday afternoon by the lake!"

"Wait. Sean and Tobias? Did you mention to them that I was coming?" Sasha inquired, dryly. "Because if you had, I doubt they would have accepted. They don't care for me and the feelings are reciprocated."

Jas looked sheepish. "Well, no, I didn't tell them. But I'm sure they'll get over what you said to them last year if you just _talk_ to them, Sasha.And Tobias is _gorgeous_, with those green eyes and that _body_ and-,"

However, the list of Tobias' assets was cut short as Professor Snape suddenly opened the door to his classroom, causing Tika Toddons, who had been leaning on it, to stumble backwards, which caused a ripple of snickers. The students filed in quickly.

"That's why you don't lean on movable objects, Toddons," Sasha quipped as she passed the blushing Gryffindor, who glared at her.

Sasha took a deep, blissful breath once she was inside, and enjoyed the scents of various ingredients as she made her way to her favorite table near the front, all tinged with the musky smell of the dungeons. It was good to be back here. She always felt comfortable within the dim, chilly Potions classroom, even though most of her classmates hated it.

Arriving at the table of her choice, she dug her well-worn copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ out of her bag, along with her brass scales and favorite knife. A moment later, Jas moved in on her right, giving her friend the slightly exasperated look she always did when Sasha chose to sit at the front in Potions.

"Hello, Sasha," said a familiar voice on her left. Dreading what she knew she would see, Sasha looked up to find Gavin Decoste joining her and Jas. He was smiling at her in a way that was clearly intended to make her melt, and the hank of brown hair that flopped oh-so-charmingly over one of his eyes had to be intentional.

Hoping against hope that he would take the hint, Sasha pointedly ignored him and instead turned to inspect her new Potions teacher in the light of day, so to speak.

She had heard some describe him as "an overgrown, greasy bat," and she had to admit that his hair was rather oily. But he was not batlike, despite the billowing black robes he wore. His movements were more languid than fluttering, and the sharp, black eyes needed no echolocation to aid them. _He reminds me more of a panther- graceful; dignified…_She looked again at those snapping black eyes. _Dangerous. _

She was so busy analyzing him that she jumped when he spoke.

"This will be one of the most difficult classes you ever take at Hogwarts. The potions you will be creating and handling will be complex and dangerous," He paused, examining the faces in the classroom. He went on, softly. "Since all of you were passed into this class by Professor Slughorn, I fully expect that half of you will be completely unsuited for it and will fail or drop out."

Sasha glanced at some of the other students. Most were looking nervous and some looked as though they would drop the class this evening.She didn't mind what he said - fewer students meant more time for those who were actually good at Potions.

Snape waved his wand, and instructions appeared on the board. "To determine if you have mastered the basics of last year's syllabus, you will be making the Draught of Living Death. You have two hours." With that, he retreated behind his desk and began grading papers.

Sasha set to work, fully confident in her abilities. Glancing at the instructions, she saw that her potion looked right for the stage she was at, but the next step was stupid. Why on earth should she cut the little, shriveled bean in order to release the juice? _Basic rule of juicing: Squeeze to get juice_. Picking up her silver dagger, she crushed the bean and was rewarded with a gush of juice. Her potion instantly turned lilac. She snorted at the textbook authors. _Wonder if Snape knows about that._ As she stirred the potion counterclockwise, she noticed it was getting darker, not lighter. She stirred harder, but it remained resolutely purple. Sasha paused. If going this direction caused it to darken, then logically, stirring it the other way might lighten it. For a moment, she considered the possible consequences of reversing a stir or two - melted cauldron, small explosion. _No guts, no glory,_ she decided. Holding her breath, she stirred clockwise once, and the potion lightened, as it was supposed to. _Lucky me. _She interspersed clockwise stirs with the counterclockwise ones until Professor Snape called the time. Her potion was clear, with only the faintest tinge of pale pink.

He prowled among the cauldrons, starting at the back and working his way forward. Sasha heard his silky voice a few times, and caught a few words. They were not encouraging. "…Very poor…" "…disastrous…" "fail…" When Snape approached the table where she and Jas were sitting, Sasha felt butterflies start in her stomach. The potion looked all right, but what if he knew that she had done something differently?

Snape looked into Jas's cauldron, where indigo liquid was bubbling, and smirked. "It would appear that Slughorn gave you more than you could handle, Miss Hustons," he said, silkily. Looking away from Jas' crestfallen face, he turned to Sasha, who tried to look more confident than she felt.

"Ah. The little songbird from last night," he said, studying her face. He glanced down into her cauldron, already smirking, and froze. Slowly, he reached for a ladle, spooned up some of the potion and gave it a delicate sniff. Pouring the potion back in, he gave Sasha a piercing look that seemed to read her every thought. To her surprise, he made no comment, scathing or otherwise, but simply turned on his heel and walked back to the front of the room, where he addressed the class.

"Your homework is to write an essay on the properties, components, and uses of the Draught of Living Death. I want two rolls of parchment by Friday. And," he added, ignoring the quiet groans that had accompanied the assignment, "I hope for all of your sakes that they are considerably better than the miserable excuses for potions that I was just presented with. Class dismissed." As Sasha bent to retrieve her bag, he said, "Miss Cupris, stay behind. I need to speak to you."

She straightened, frowning, He could not possibly have any complaint about her potion- it had been almost exactly what the book said it should be, and she doubted he would wait until she was alone to criticize her. Lupin was seeing her detention this Saturday afternoon, so it couldn't be about that either. Jas gave her a look of deepest sympathy, and fled. Puzzled, Sasha slung her bag on top of the table closest to his desk, and approached him.

Snape had seated himself at his desk, for which Sasha was grateful- she really didn't want to spend the entire conversation with him looming over her. He steepled his long fingers and studied her intently. _Amazing how he can be sitting down and _still_ be looking down his nose at me,_ she thought, as she waited for him to speak.

"Miss Cupris, the position of Potions Master requires that I fulfill a number of responsibilities to the school each month. This year, due to some changes in the faculty, I have been given even more, to the extent that I simply do not have time to complete all of them," He paused, watching her for a reaction, and getting only polite interest, continued. "I require the aid of an assistant, to perform some of the simpler tasks."

Sasha kept herself from sighing as she said, "When do I start, sir?" She had the distinct feeling that this was going to require a lot of time and energy.

"Next Wednesday night, and alternate Wednesdays thereafter. I expect you to arrive promptly at eight o'clock each night, and I will accept no excuses for absence or tardiness."

Sensing that any sort of objection, no matter how sensible, would only result in trouble for her, Sasha simply replied, "Yes, sir."

He nodded curtly and said, "Dismissed," before turning to a pile of ungraded essays.

Sasha was halfway to the door when he added, "And Miss Cupris, in the future I suggest you consult me before deliberately deviating from the instructions given to you."


	3. Chapter 3: Detention bites

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! This is my first fanfic, so please give feedback! If I'm doing something wrong I want to know about it, so I can fix it and not do it again. Thank you to my beta, moonrevel, who is awesome. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Really wish I did, though, 'cause then I'd be J. K. Rowling and I would be a filthy rich genius.**

Chapter 3: Detention Bites

The sun was shining brightly down on the first Saturday of the school year, calling students out to abandon schoolwork for a while and enjoy the vast Hogwarts grounds. A light breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, which were beginning to turn colors. All of this was completely lost on Severus as he sat in the teachers lounge, facing away from the window, and reading a book so badly written that it held him in thrall. As he turned to the next page, he considered that the English language really hadn't done anything to deserve being abused like this. Of course, with a title like_ Larry Rotter and the Magician's Rock,_ he hadn't really expected anything else. Sheer boredom had prompted him to pick it up, and horrified fascination kept him going.

He glanced up as the door opened to reveal Minerva McGonagall, the current Headmistress of Hogwarts. He had noticed since returning to Hogwarts that she had aged considerably in recent years. The past few years of war and tragedy had been hard on her, and it showed in the grey-streaked hair, weary stride, and sad gaze.

_Of course,_ Severus reflected, _losing your love and gaining his responsibilities would be hard on anyone. _ He had always admired Minerva for her toughness and intelligence, not to mention the fact that she had (mostly) resisted the urge to treat Harry Potter as though he was special.

However, his admiration for her did not mitigate the unhappiness he felt when she greeted him with, "Ah, Severus, there you are. I've been looking for you."

In his experience, nothing good ever followed these words. They foretold misfortune almost as certainly as "We need to talk."

Suppressing a sigh, he put down the Muggle novel, uncrossed his leg, and said, "What can I do for you, Headmistress?"

She crossed the room, emerald robes swishing, to sink down in the armchair next to his with a tired sigh. She fixed him with a commanding look through her spectacles and said, "If you're not too busy, Severus, I was wondering if you could go down to Hagrid's paddock and ask Professor Lupin to come up here. I need to speak with him."

He arched an eyebrow and said, "And what is Remus doing at Hagrid's paddock? Searching for future meals?"

Minerva glared at him, lips thinning, and replied, "He is overseeing a detention, I believe, and I would appreciate it if you would relieve him of that duty while I speak to him." Her glottal Edinburgh accent was clipped with irritation, and a glint in her eyes told Severus that "no" was not an acceptable answer. However, just because he intended to obey didn't mean he would do it happily.

"Very well, Minerva," he snapped, scowling as he stood up. "Since you insist on making my day a little brighter, I will acquiesce." He swept out the door, resisting the urge to slam it behind him.

Black robes billowing behind him, Severus strode down the corridors to the main entrance. He was halfway across the lawns before it struck him that a pasture was an odd place to have a detention.

As he neared the paddock, he saw Remus leaning on the fence, shabby robes stirring in the breeze as he watched the activity on the other side of the fence.

Stopping just short of the fence, and folding his arms over his chest, Snape took in the scene inside the paddock and asked, "Is she able to see it?"

"Yes," Remus replied, without turning his head to look at the other man. Seeming to sense an unasked question, he added, "I did not think it would be polite to ask why."

Severus sneered. "You have tact, Lupin. It is a talent that your friends Black and Potter would have greatly benefited from." He watched with anticipatory interest as the muscles between Remus' shoulder blades tensed at the insult to his dead compatriots, but was slightly disappointed when he declined to rise to the bait.

"What do you want, Severus?"

"What I want has very little to do with why I am here. The dulcet tones of our headmistress bid me to come fetch you," he snapped. "She wants to speak with you, for some unfathomable reason. I have been given the delightful task of supervising Miss Cupris as she…what _is_ she doing, Remus?"

Remus smiled at the scene before them. "Hagrid said that he needed one of the young thestrals trained to walk on a lead for his Magical Creatures class,' He looked at Severus, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes. "I thought it would make for an interesting detention."

* * *

"Come on…"

Sasha pulled firmly on the lead rope, beseeching the thestral to move, but it had planted its feet and refused to budge. Apparently, force wasn't going to work, so bribery was necessary. Reluctantly, she reached into the pouch tied to her belt loops and pulled out a slice of raw beef, noticing as she did so that she was slightly more than half-way through her supply.

"Hey, boy. Look what I got," she said, in her best singsong, talking-to-stubborn-animals voice. She extended her left hand, holding the meat, and watched as the thestrals ears perked up. He flared his nostrils, inhaling the scent of blood and flesh, and reached out for it.

Pulling her arm back a little, Sasha took a step backwards, still coaxing. To her delight, the creature followed.

"Sasha!"

Startled by Professor Lupin's shout, the thestral shied and half reared. Sasha held on to the lead, trying to soothe it, while simultaneously cursing Lupin and thanking the gods that the beast could not fly yet. Once she had clamed the animal down, she looked over to the section of the fence where Lupin had been standing. He was waving her over, and standing next to him, looking surly, was Professor Snape.

Wondering what was going on, Sasha started towards the two men, turning occasionally to coax, scold, or bribe the thestral to follow.

"Sorry about that, Sasha," Lupin said as she neared. "I didn't realize it would spook him." He looked so truly apologetic that she had to forgive him.

"No harm done, sir," she replied, smiling slightly. "Nothing that a piece of steak tartare couldn't fix."

He smiled in reply, and then said, "Professor Snape has just told me that the headmistress wishes to speak with me immediately. I don't know how long this will take, so he's going to take over for me while I'm gone." His eyes flicked sideways to Snape, who was glowering at him. He gave Sasha an apologetic half-smile and added, "Don't have too much fun." Nodding to Snape, he turned and strode off across the lawns.

Suppressing a sigh, Sasha glanced at Snape. Her green eyes met his snapping black ones, and she felt her stomach do an interesting flip. He broke the silence.

"You heard Professor Lupin, Miss Cupris," he said with a sneer. "By all means, continue playing with the pretty pony." With that, he conjured a bench on the grass, and sat down.

Turning away a little too quickly, she tripped over a rock hidden in the grass, and had to grab the thestral's bony neck to keep from falling. Behind her, Snape snorted, and she flushed slightly. Gathering what was left of her dignity, she led the beast back towards the center of the paddock and went back to work, doing her best to focus entirely on the now-rambunctious thestral and not on how Snape's eyes had made her feel.

The thestral had decided that she was now something to play with, and she found herself grateful for the shoulder-length leather gauntlets Lupin had made her wear. As she dodged another one of the thestrals "playful nips," movement at Snape's position caught her attention. He had stood up, and was now leaning on the fence, watching her with interest.

Though she only glanced over for a second, it was all the time needed for her to be too late to dodge the thestral's snap.

Searing pain shot through her right shoulder as two-inch long fangs penetrated the flesh. She cried out in pain and shock, and felt another rush of agony as the fangs were pulled out, which only worsened the wounds. Her fist clenching in agony kept her holding on to the lead rope with her right hand as her left one clutched at her shoulder, which was now slick with blood. Gritting her teeth, she tried to get a look at the wound, and was stymied when she saw that her shoulder was deep brown and tough- looking, aside from the punctures.

_Oh, right…gauntlets._ Gritting her teeth, she began to undo the laces that held them on, wincing whenever she brushed her injured shoulder.

Suddenly, her clumsy hand was knocked away, and a set of long, slender fingers began undoing the laces with marvelous dexterity. Half-hoping and half-dreading what she knew she would see, Sasha looked up to see the owner of those hands.

The scowling face of Professor Snape met her eyes, and she tried to tell herself that her suddenly racing pulse was a result of pain and adrenaline. Looking away before he could catch her gawping, she realized that she was still holding the lead rope in her injured hand. Shaking slightly, she transferred it to her left hand and gripped it like a lifeline.

A new blaze of pain suddenly sprung from her shoulder, and she gasped. Looking over, she saw Snape sliding the gauntlets off. At her gasp, he glanced at her and stated, "Do not expect overly gentle ministrations from me, Miss Cupris. I am not renowned for my bedside manner."

Despite his hard words and face, the long fingers that explored her wounds were gentle. After a moment more of inspection, he took out his wand, touched it to the wound, and said, "_Scourgify." _

Sasha bit back a cry of pain as the wounds stung, and then burned. Hissing bubbles appeared inside the holes, as well as on the blood that swathed her arm. The bubbles vanished after a minute, leaving her skin clean and her wounds looking slightly less, well... _raw_ was the only word she could think of to describe her own bleeding flesh.

"I didn't know that spell could be used on wounds, sir," she said, studying her shoulder with a kind of perverse interest. "I suppose it cleans and disinfects, but doesn't actually heal?" Sasha looked up at Snape, trying to cover her pain with light banter.

He raised one thin eyebrow, and nodded curtly, but declined to say anything. He was inspecting the wound again, and had noticed that it had started bleeding profusely. Raising his wand, Snape tapped it against her shoulder, (Sasha winced), and said, "_Colligify."_ The bleeding stopped. Sasha filed the spell away in her head for future use.

"Sasha! Are you all right?"

Sasha and Snape both looked up to see Lupin running towards them, a concerned look on his face. He vaulted the fence and hurried over to where the two of them were standing. Taking in her punctured shoulder and the leather gauntlet on the ground, he said, "What happened? Did it attack you?"

He turned a suspicious eye on the thestral, which seemed quite cowed by the whole incident and was standing quietly.

Sasha shook her head vehemently. "No, Professor, he was just being playful. He just chooses to express playfulness by biting."

A sudden thought struck her. The thestral had bitten her, but it hadn't ripped out her flesh or tried to eat what it bit; instead, it had released her quickly. Why? Her gaze fell on the gauntlet, lying on the grass, and it hit her. Moving slowly, she picked up the gauntlet (with her injured hand, as the other one was holding the thestral) and offered the bloody, punctured end to the creature.

He sniffed it, snorted, and tossed his head, and Sasha smiled. "He doesn't seem to like the leather, sir. Maybe it tastes bad to him, but I don't think he'll attack anyone who's wearing it."

Lupin looked relieved. "Good. I'll tell Hagrid. Now you get up to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey can Heal that shoulder."

"Yes, sir," Sasha suddenly realized that she had been remiss in something, and turned to thank Snape for helping her.

He was already halfway to the castle, eating up the ground with his long strides. She felt her stomach turn over again, and realized that she actually fancied Professor Snape, the Potions Master.


	4. Chapter 4: Plan of Action

**Author's note: Hey, everyone! This is my first fanfic, so please give feedback! If I'm doing something wrong I want to know about it, so I can fix it and not do it again. Thank you to my beta, moonrevel, who is awesome. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Really wish I did, though, 'cause then I'd be J. K. Rowling and I would be a filthy rich genius.**

Chapter 4: Plan of Action

_She was standing in front of a cauldron of Amortentia, breathing in the scents that she loved so much- cool stone, smoke, and dark chocolate. As she gave the cauldron another stir, a pair of arms encircled her from behind, trapping her gently in an embrace. She released the handle of the ladle and leaned back against a sculpted chest, basking in the warmth of his body._

_She marveled at the speed at which his long, dexterous fingers undid the fastenings on her robes. The hands slid under her now-open robes, and the owner of those hands knew exactly where to go and- _Oh, my,_ she thought- what to do. Light, nibbling kisses began at her earlobe and worked their way down her neck to her shoulder, where they became gentle bites that brought a moan to her lips._

_She could stand the blissful torment no longer. Squirming, she turned around, buried her hands in thick, black hair, and gave a passionate kiss, which was returned with equal fervor. His slender lips pressed against hers with just the right amount of pressure, and his tongue expertly explored her mouth, eliciting another moan. When they broke apart, breathing hard, she found herself staring into burning black eyes-_

Sasha awoke, gasping, heart thudding like she had just had a nightmare. There was an urgent throbbing below her abdomen, and every muscle in her body was tense with unrequited lust.

This was her third dream about Professor Snape, and they were getting progressively steamier.

It was ridiculous. Ever since that remark he had made to her about "deviating from the instructions given to you," the Potions teacher had constantly been on her mind. All through Friday's class, his silky voice had sent shivers up and down her spine, and when he had inspected her (perfect) Blood Replenishing Potion, the intense look he had given her had felt as though someone had hit her with a Jelly- Legs Jinx.

Saturday night, after her eventful detention, she had her first dream about him. It had taken three shots of firewhisky and nearly an hour of staring into space to get back to sleep.

Groaning softly, Sasha swung out of bed. She needed to be standing, possibly under a cold shower, in order to analyze this properly. Feet silent on the carpeted stairs, she made her way down the spiral staircase of Ravenclaw tower to the common room. To her immense relief, there were no students relaxing or studying in there that night. She briefly considered one of the cushy armchairs arranged around the fireplace, but decided against it. Instead, Sasha began to pace, thinking desperately.

It wasn't as though Snape was particularly attractive- as far as cute teachers went, Lupin was the clear winner. Snape's strong features and black hair were… _striking_, she decided, trying to ignore the fact that the word _sexy_ had appeared first in her mind. Then, of course, there was his tall, lean frame and those beautiful _hands_…

_God,_ Sasha thought, _I'm thinking the way Jas talks._

So, maybe her attraction was partially physical. But what really got her going was his _mind_. Sasha wanted to talk to him about everything and anything just to see what insights and thoughts he had. She loved the way he used language in delicately phrased insults, even though she occasionally disagreed with him on whether they were necessary.

Of course, the fact that every word he spoke was issued in that soft, silky voice didn't hurt.

"Okay," she said aloud, "so I have a crush on Professor Snape. Fine."

But no… It wasn't a crush. She felt no need to doodle his name in her notebook, or surreptitiously follow him around, or act like a flirtatious, giggling idiot when he spoke to her. She didn't even want to take action and follow through with her attraction. Sasha just felt that she should simply act normally and see what happened.

_And if I manage to impress him in class, so much the better._ With that thought, she went back to bed.

* * *

"I heard that he pickles peoples' _brains!_" 

Severus halted. The voice had echoed back along the hallway he was walking down, and, if he was not mistaken, it belonged to Gavin Decoste, a particularly arrogant and unintelligent Gryffindor.

"Really?" a girl squealed. "Oh, that's so _creepy._" Severus didn't recognize her voice, but he knew the tone of flirtatious agreement when he heard it. Moving quietly, he advanced along the corridor, listening with interest as the conversation continued.

"Yeah, really," Decoste continued, and Severus heard a new tone of bravado enter his voice. "That's where he got all those brains that are in the jars on his walls. I saw 'em when I was in detention last Thursday, and then someone told me that they're human brains. Maybe…" and here he lowered his voice dramatically, "maybe even students' brains."

Severus heard the girl gasp with affected horror and rolled his eyes. The next voice, though, caught his attention.

"In the extremely unlikely event that Professor Snape _did_ pickle students' brains, Decoste, then I'm sure you would have no cause for concern."

_Ah, Miss Cupris, sticking up for me, are you?_ Severus thought. Well, that confirmed what he'd been suspecting since class on Friday. She had blushed the most charming color of pink when he had inspected her potion and found no cause for complaint. Not to mention the way she'd acted during that incident with the Thestral- he had been able to feel her racing pulse as he pulled off the leather gauntlets.

Subsequent eye contact and a touch of Legilimency and he had his answer.

Sasha Cupris, one the most talented Potions students he had ever had, and an attractive young woman besides, was attracted to him. It was a most interesting situation. He had just been on his way to his office to mull the matter over with a glass of firewhisky when he'd overheard Decoste.

Still moving quietly, Severus turned the next corner in the hallway and got his first glimpse of the scene he had been listening to.

Decoste was leaning against a wall, his back to Severus. There were three girls grouped around him, including Cupris' friend Hustons, and they were all looking at him in a decidedly flirtatious manner; however, the handsome Gryffindor seemed now to be looking at Cupris, who was reclining in a nearby window ledge with an open book in her lap- Snape recognized the gruesome illustrations as being from _Moste Potente Potions_. She was facing him, and the swirling of his robes must have caught her eye, for he saw her green eyes flicker towards him, but she gave no sign that she had noticed him.

Apparently, Decoste wasn't done debasing Severus. "How can you not hate him, Cupris? He's a _git_. A sneaking, slimy git."

Suddenly, Cupris seemed to change her mind. "You know, I kind of see what you're saying, Decoste," she said, nodding in an understanding sort of way. "It always seems like he's looking over your shoulder, doesn't it?"

Severus saw what she was doing and suppressed a smirk. Apparently, this was one Ravenclaw who had fangs.

Decoste, of course, was completely oblivious to her machinations. "Yeah, totally. You never know when he'll swoop down on you so he can insult your potion and fail you for no reason."

"And no matter how quietly you talk, it always seems like he can hear every word you say," Cupris added, and Severus saw her lips twitching.

It finally seemed to dawn on Decoste that something was afoot. He crossed his arms and cocked his head slightly, possibly replaying the conversation in his mind. Severus knew that he had figured it out when his back went rigid, and a second later he whirled around. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he saw the man he had been insulting standing right behind him.

Severus stared at the boy for several long moments, and then said in his softest, most dangerous voice, "Twenty points from Gryffindor, Decoste, and detention for the next three Saturdays." As he spoke, he advanced slowly on the boy until he was right in front of him, forcing Decoste to look up at him. Glaring down into terrified blue eyes, Severus added, "Now get out of my sight."

Decoste fled. The girls who had been flirting with him followed, occasionally glancing back over their shoulders. Severus smirked, and then turned to Cupris, who had been watching the entire scene in silence. She stood, brushing the dust off her skirt, and looked at him, clearly expecting some comment on what had just happened. He decided not to satisfy her.

"My classroom, eight o'clock, Miss Cupris," he stated, before sweeping past her down the corridor. He could feel her startled gaze on his back before he turned another corner.

* * *

It was seven forty-five, and Sasha was hurrying through the corridors to Snape's classroom. It was the first session of her assisting him, and she was both nervous and excited. The thought of spending several hours _alone_ with Snape was definitely appealing, but she was terrified that she would mess something up and humiliate herself in front of him. 

So intent on these thoughts was she that she didn't notice Peeves swooping down on her. Sasha felt something yank at her hair, and she yelped, more out of startlement than pain. Furious, she looked up to see the brightly colored poltergeist swooping around the ceiling, holding the clip that had secured her hair. He blew a raspberry at her, and then dove, wielding the clip like a weapon. She ducked, swearing, and felt him zoom over her.

"Peeves! I need that! Give it back!" she snarled, glaring up at him as he turned somersaults in midair. She really did need to have her hair out of the way for Potions, and she didn't have time to get another clip from Ravenclaw tower. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she only had five minutes to get to the dungeons and figure out how to deal with her hair. Sasha flipped Peeves an extremely rude hand gesture and then took off down the corridors, praying he would find someone else to torment. As she walked, she attempted to braid her hair, but that was hard at the best of times, and was currently impossible.

At last she came to Snape's door. Stopping, she got her breath back, ran a hand over her hair, and knocked.

"Enter," said a silky voice that sent shivers down her spine. Taking a deep breath, Sasha opened the door and went inside, shutting it behind her.

Snape was searching through the student stores cupboard when she entered. There was a cauldron set up at her usual table at the front, and she saw several jars of ingredients already placed on it. Another cauldron, which was bigger than hers and looked to be made of obsidian or some other shiny black stone, was set up at the table opposite hers. Brown murky liquid was simmering inside it and giving off a smell of swamp mud and garlic.

"Miss Cupris, you do know that you will be making potions here tonight?" Snape had apparently found what he was looking for and had turned towards her. She looked at him, and saw that he was scowling at her, his arms folded over his chest.

"Yes, sir," she said, taken slightly aback by the odd question.

"Then why is your hair not contained?" His black eyes were glittering in a way that told her he was not pleased with how this evening was beginning. "If a strand of your hair were to fall into a potion, the results could be disastrous. I know that you know this, and yet your hair is loose. _Why?"_

Her hand flew to her hair and she began to stammer out an explanation. "I'm s-sorry, sir. It was up, but I ran into Peeves and he-"

Snape held up a hand, and she fell silent mid-sentence. The professor considered her for a moment, fingers of one hand drumming on the other arm. Abruptly, he uncrossed his arms and beckoned to her. Slowly, she approached, feeling extremely nervous, and stopped a few feet in front of him. Sasha glanced up at his scowling face, and felt her mouth go dry, though whether from fear or attraction, she wasn't sure.

"Hold still," he said. With a few quick strides he was behind her. She felt his long fingers gather up her hair, brushing against the back of her neck as he did so. She inhaled sharply at his touch, and licked her lips, feeling her knees start to go wobbly.

Snape seemed to misinterpret her gasp, for he said dryly, "Fear not, Miss Cupris, I am not going to chop off your precious locks." Sasha felt his hands divide her hair into three sections and begin to weave the sections into a plait. She couldn't believe it. Professor Snape was _braiding her hair_.

A minute later, he was done, and she felt him tap the end of the braid with his wand to secure it. As she opened her mouth to thank him, he brushed past her without so much as a glance. Once he reached his desk, he turned and said, "I require a basic Pepper-Up Potion from you tonight. The ingredients are on the table, and the instructions are in your book on page twenty-six." With that, he moved to the other cauldron and began adding lacewings, one by one.

Shaking off the dazed feeling that Professor Snape's handling of her hair had brought upon her, Sasha set to work.

Two and a half hours later, she was beginning to feel a bit weary. The Pepper-Up Potion was simple enough, but it had to stew for long periods of time, and had to be stirred constantly. Unfortunately, it thickened in the process, and her arms and shoulders were beginning to ache from forcing her ladle through it, and her neck was sore from bending over the cauldron for so long. Wincing, she tried to surreptitiously massage her right shoulder with her free left hand as she stirred. It didn't help that the spicy fumes of the potion were making her eyes sting and tear up, and she rubbed them on her upper arm, hoping Snape wouldn't notice. She didn't want to look like a crybaby.

"Ow," she said softly, as her hand awkwardly worked at her protesting muscles. She was going to be so sore in the morning.

She jumped when a new set of long fingers began to work on her right shoulder. They managed to find the exact knot she had been trying to reach, and after a few moments of kneading, she felt the muscle ease. Sasha sighed as the tension in her shoulder released, and half closed her eyes as the fingers worked their way along the back of her neck.

So absorbed in the process of the massage was she that it took her several more seconds to realize _whose_ fingers they had to be.

Her head flew up in shock, and she half turned, not knowing what to say to Snape. "Professor, I- you didn't- thanks- but…"

"Stop babbling," Snape said curtly, his fingers still working on her left shoulder. "Do not mistake my actions for charity. This potion has a ways to go before it is done, and you will be useless if you stiffen up now." Apparently finished with the massage, he returned to his own cauldron, and peered into it intently, leaving Sasha to try to get her mind back on the potion and off the way his hands had made her feel.

It was twelve-thirty when Sasha returned to Ravenclaw Tower. Too tired even to undress, she kicked off her shoes, flung herself on her bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Severus stared into the fireplace in his room, a glass of firewhisky in his hand. 

It had been a most entertaining evening.

Earlier that day, Severus had thought over the matter of Sasha Cupris long and hard, and had decided that her being attracted to him was simply full of too many entertaining possibilities to dismiss. Toying with her feelings and manipulating her emotions sounded like a perfect plan to his Slytherin sensibilities, and the initial session that evening had proven him right. Watching her become flustered every time he touched her had been most amusing, and she had given him two perfect reasons to do so.

Of course, he would never have any sort of romantic affair with the girl. Attractive though she was, she was still a student, and even in the exceedingly unlikely event that he did find himself reciprocating her feelings, Severus was not about to risk his job and reputation for a fling.

But there was nothing that said he could not use her own feelings to excite, disappoint, and generally confuse the hell out of her for the rest of the year. Besides, she was genuinely talented, and he had already thought of several tasks with which she could assist him.

Smiling, Severus toasted himself with his glass of firewhisky, and drank the rest of it down.


	5. Chapter 5: Hair Trigger

**Author's note: Fifth chapter new author's note. I'm really happy to have gotten this far. Unfortunately, school has started, so I may have less time to write than I did during the summer. I will do my best to work on it in my free time, though my muse has this thing about only appearing when I'm alone with my computer and it's about 1 a.m. Still, I will try, because this story is such fun to write (and hopefully fun to read). Thanks to moonrevel, my awesomely rad beta. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Really wish I did, though, 'cause then I'd be J. K. Rowling and I would be a filthy rich genius.**

Chapter 5: Hair Trigger

Sasha shivered, and bent closer to the steaming cauldron she was tending, trying to absorb as much warmth from it as was possible. Snape's dungeon, which was usually ten degrees colder than the rest of the castle, was nothing short of freezing that night, due to winter deciding to show up in the middle of October. Sasha had awoken that morning to find frost on the windows of her dorm and had put on her winter cloak while still underneath her covers.

Breathing on her hands, Sasha peered at the steaming potion, waiting for it to turn the requisite shade of lime green. She glanced at her cutting board to ensure that her unicorn tail hair was sliced into even lengths. It was an expensive ingredient and it would not do to waste its full potency through carelessness on her part. Of course, the potion would work either way, but it would be more effective if the hair was cut correctly, and Sasha had a feeling that Snape could tell the difference just by looking at it.

_Snape_. Sasha glanced up to the front of the room, where the professor was grading papers. His eyes were narrowed, and he had a slight sneer on his face that did not bode well for the writer of the essay he was holding. She felt a shiver go down her spine just from looking at him, and she hastily looked back at the cauldron. Over the past month, her attraction to him had increased with every potions lesson and Wednesday night session. She had got slightly better at not falling apart when he spoke to her, but his burning black eyes still made her blush and his velvety voice did more than that. As for the dreams…well, they had progressed too, in extremely interesting ways. Not only in the level of sexual intensity they contained, but also, a few times a week, she had dreams where she and Snape just _talked_ for what seemed like hours. The conversations they had were usually about potions, though other subjects were occasionally broached, and Sasha was amazed at how intricate and logical the conversations were. They were very realistic, right down to Snape's condescending and snarky manner.

Sighing softly over her romantic inclinations, Sasha began to add the sliced unicorn hairs to her potion one at a time, watching as it slowly turned from lurid green to a rich emerald shade. She smiled to see her favorite color show up in a potion and began to stir. _Three clockwise stirs, pause, three counterclockwise stirs, pause; repeat ten times_,she thought. She fell into the pattern, becoming slightly hypnotized by the swirling potion and the minty fumes it was giving off.

"Make the intervals between stirs a little longer, Miss Cupris," said a silky voice, practically in her ear.

Sasha gasped, jerking out of her reverie, her heart hammering madly. Snape's ability to move completely silently would never cease to amaze her- black leather boots should make _some_ noise on a hard stone floor! This was the third time he had snuck up on her to deliver instructions, and she was as shocked as she had been the first time.

"Yes, sir," she replied, trying to control the tremor in her voice that his closeness induced. She returned her attention to her potion, and tried without success to forget how his breath had gently tickled the nape of her neck.

* * *

Severus glided back to his desk, allowing the barest hint of a smirk to show on his face. Startling a reaction out of the girl was almost too easy at times, especially since he had discovered that she often became completely absorbed in her work, to the point that she became oblivious to her surroundings. Murmuring advice in her ear, he had found, was a particularly effective tactic.

Seating himself, he picked up the next atrociously written paper and began to scan it. Grading it was a simple task, and he allowed his mind to wander as he ruthlessly plied his red-inked quill.

Cupris was mildly interesting, as far as students went. It was obvious that she was intelligent and talented, but she seemed to have no desire to show off her knowledge; indeed, she was so quiet and reserved in class that he practically had to order answers out of her. Severus didn't get the impression that she was incredibly shy, but it seemed like she was very reluctant to draw attention to herself. The only comments she ever offered during class were soft snorts of disgust when one of her classmates gave a particularly pathetic answer. Upon hearing her, Severus would generally swoop down and demand _her _opinion on the subject, which she usually gave very quietly and in the most concise way possible.

There were a few other quirks that served to distinguish her from her mediocre compatriots. She seldom laughed, but often smiled, even when presented with the hijinks of the current school dunces, Bryce Kwery and Clive O'Malley, who usually had their audience in stitches. The other day, he had been walking down a corridor and had been forced to do a double take when he glimpsed her talking amiably with a group of Slytherins- something no other Ravenclaw would be caught dead doing. He had walked away from that sight with a number of questions on his mind.

"Professor?"

Musings interrupted, he looked up to see Cupris standing a few feet in front of his desk. "Yes, Miss Cupris?" he said slowly, lingering slightly over her name, and watching her struggle to hide her reaction. He had to admit that she was getting better at hiding her attraction, though she was hopeless when caught off-guard.

She seemed to get a hold of herself, and answered evenly, "I've just finished decanting the potion as you directed me, sir. Is there anything else you would like me to do?" He caught a slight note of pleading in her question, though whether she wanted him to order her to remain or leave, he couldn't tell.

He took his time formulating a response, all the while fixing her eyes with his own. Looking at a pair of green eyes without James Potter's face surrounding them was an unexpected benefit of this situation, and Severus availed himself of it now as he forced her to wait for his response. "You may go, Miss Cupris," he said at last, and he saw the release of tension in her posture that told him this was the answer she had hoped for.

"Thank you, sir. Good night."

Severus nodded curtly and turned back to the essay, upon which he scrawled a large, spiky "D." As he heard the door open and begin to close, he decided to play his last trick of the night…

* * *

Sasha paused outside of the door to Snape's dungeon. She could have sworn that she had heard Snape whisper, "Sweet dreams," right before it shut, but the very idea was so preposterous that she dismissed it from her mind. It was probably the sound of the door scraping over the stone floor combined with her hormone-addled imagination, since there was no way it had actually happened.

But it had sounded so much like Snape…

Shaking her head at her folly, Sasha headed off along the path to Ravenclaw tower.

She was halfway along the hallway that led to Lupin's classroom when someone called:

"Hey, Cupris!"

Sasha turned and bit back a groan as she saw Gavin Decoste emerge from a side corridor and walk towards her, flashing his trademark winning smile. He was wearing a jumper in Gryffindor red and a pair of jeans that fit him exactly right- not too loose or too tight. His Prefect badge glinted on his chest. Brown hair flopped charmingly into his eyes, and he brushed it aside with studied casualness as he sauntered up to her.

"Can I help you, Decoste?" she said, a little coolly. He had been trying to charm her into going out with him since that year began, but she had no interest whatsoever in him. It seemed, like so many popular and good-looking young men, that he wanted the only girl in the school who didn't want him, and that he had deluded himself into thinking that she was simply playing hard-to-get.

He stopped in front of her, just a little closer than was normally comfortable, and looked down at her, staring intensely into her eyes. "Do you know that I would go to the ends of the earth for you, Sasha?" he murmured, in what he clearly thought was a dashing and romantic fashion.

"Really? Would you stay there?" Sasha replied with mock earnestness. She tried to sidestep him, intending to take off down the corridor before he could say anything else, but he caught her by her shoulder and pulled her back around, gently catching her upper arms in his large hands. She yanked out of his grip and glared up at him furiously. How many hints would it take before this stupid boy understood that she did not like him? Sasha was considering hexing the hell out of him when he spoke again.

"All right, Cupris, take it easy," he said, in a much less dreamy tone than he had used before. "You don't care much for me, I get that. I'm not your type, I suppose."

_Damn straight_, Sasha thought. _My type is intelligent and black haired, thank you._ She crossed her arms and planted her feet firmly, a stance she had inherited from her father. Her mother despaired of it, saying that it was too butch, but Sasha had discovered that, when one is five foot two and blonde, one can sometimes use a bit of butch. For instance, looking tough was good when dealing with difficult men.

"But," Decoste continued, "liking people wasn't really a factor this spring, was it?"

Sasha stared at him, shock warring with outrage inside her mind. _Not this_, she thought, _please don't let him bring up this spring_. Those were memories she was trying to forget.

"I don't know what you mean, Decoste," she snapped, glaring at him in what she hoped was an intimidating manner.

"Oh, I think you do, Cupris," he said softly. "You couldn't have liked every boy you snogged during the last two months of school, since that would mean you fancied almost every bloke in fifth year and over."

Time to end the pretense. "Spring was a long time ago, and those were extenuating circumstances," she said flatly. "Now drop it and let me pass."

He didn't move, but continued speaking as though she hadn't said anything. "You gave every other bloke in the school a turn, Cupris. I'm wondering when I get to have a go." Decoste leaned down until their faces were very close, and smiled slightly.

Sasha felt herself go completely cold with anger. "Drop it, Decoste," she repeated through clenched teeth. Her hands were curling into fists, nails cutting into her palms.

"Come on, one little snog, no one will ever know…" he said, one hand snaking out to rest on her waist as he stepped closer.

She snapped.

Using strength born of rage, she grabbed the front of his jumper and slammed him into the nearest wall. She actually managed to lift him several inches off the floor.

"_I. Said. Drop it!_" she snarled, glaring up at Decoste through the red haze in front of her eyes. His brown eyes were wide with shock and fear and his breath was coming in short, sharp pants.

He was scared of her.

Suddenly, Sasha came back to herself. She stared at the boy who she held with horror, and then she let him go. Decoste's legs collapsed when he hit the floor, still staring at her with fear in his face.

Sasha backed away, realizing what she had just done, and feeling fear creep up on her. Her hands went involuntarily to her mouth. She wanted to say something, to apologize, but nothing seemed adequate. Finally, she turned and ran as fast as she could down the corridor. Tears were blurring her vision and running down her face, but she ignored them in her quest to get away from Decoste's terrified eyes.


	6. Chapter 6: Power of Positive Thinking

Chapter 6: The Power of Positive Thinking

As she whipped around a corner, she slammed into something. A pair of large hands grabbed her shoulders and kept her from falling to the ground. Startled out of her hysterics, Sasha looked up into a pair of warm brown eyes and a careworn face surrounded by graying hair.

"Steady there, Sasha," said Professor Lupin in his hoarse voice. His eyes flicked over her, and a frown appeared on his face as he noticed her tearstained face and trembling limbs. "Are you all right?"

Sasha could tell that he wanted to comfort her in whatever way he could- he was kind like that- but she didn't want to be comforted, because then she would have to explain everything, and she did not want anyone else knowing about last spring. Trying to speak in a reasonably steady voice, she replied, "I'm fine, sir, thank you."

"Really?" he said dryly, raising one eyebrow slightly. It was clear by his expression that people who ran recklessly down corridors with tears pouring down their cheeks were generally not "fine." Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and Sasha saw anger in them. "Did Severus do something?"

"No!" she said, much more forcefully than she had intended. Lupin's eyebrows quirked upwards at her vehement response, and she forced herself to calm down before she continued. "No, sir, Sev- ah- Professor Snape didn't do anything. It's just been a long day," she concluded lamely. She rubbed her sore eyes and tried to look tired rather than upset.

Lupin looked at her for a long moment, and then sighed gently. "I'm sure it has been, Sasha," he said, a kind smile touching his lips. He gave her shoulder a comforting pat, and she smiled, albeit shakily, at his concern. "Get some sleep."

"Yes, sir," she replied. He gave her one last piercing look, then stepped past her down the corridor to his classroom. Sasha waited until she was sure he couldn't hear her, and then picked up a run, heading down the path that led to a certain painting of a bowl of fruit.

* * *

A noise from the common room woke Jas at about eleven o'clock. Straining her ears, she listened. It was an ugly, hiccoughing sob, the kind someone made when they were trying not to cry, and failing.

Her mothering instinct kicked in. Silently, Jas slid out of bed and padded down the spiral staircase that connected the common room with the girl's dormitories. As she descended, she noticed that the sobs were interspersed with sniffs, and she thought she detected the crackling of a fire. A faint glow at the base of the stairs confirmed this observation.

"Hello?" she began, softly, as she peered into the common room. "Are you all-?"

She was brought up short by what she saw.

Something akin to half a feast was laid out on the low table in front of the fireplace. There were half-eaten bowls of ice cream, a few rolls, a tankard of butterbeer, and what looked like some leftovers from dinner, all spread out across the table. Jas caught a whiff of roast turkey and gravy, and her stomach growled quietly.

A sniff drew her eyes to one of the navy brocade armchairs that surrounded the table. The firelight flickered off a curled-up form, which was shaking gently in synch with the sobs. Jas caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair, and all her questions were answered.

"Sasha?" Jas moved forward slowly, arms held open, ready to comfort her friend. Sasha had to be incredibly upset to eat like this- bingeing was how Sasha dealt with a lot of strong emotions. When sad or upset, she ate; if confused, she drank; and when she was heartbroken, she snogged. She often joked that anyone could tell how upset she'd been recently by looking at how tight her jeans were.

" 'Lo, Jas," Sasha replied dully, sitting up and rubbing her red, swollen nose. "Come and join the Pathetic Person Party." She reached to the table and retrieved a half-melted bowl of ice cream and a spoon, then sat back in the chair and stared into it like she could read her fortune in the chocolaty pool.

Silently, Jas slid into the chair next to Sasha's and grabbed a warm roll. She rolled it between her hands, feeling the smooth texture of the crust, as she waited patiently for the story to unfold.

"Tell me, Jas," Sasha began, "if you walked in on your long-time boyfriend passionately snogging another girl, would you consider turnabout fair play? I mean," she continued, her voice hard and bitter, "this was a boy you loved, who said he loved you, who you gave your virginity to, and then it turns out he's shagging three other girls and your relationship is a joke amongst them-." She choked off suddenly, her chest heaving with suppressed sobs. Jas watched silently.

With an effort, Sasha regained control of herself and said harshly, "In those circumstances, is it just possible to be forgiven for snogging a number of boys in the weeks that followed?" Her hands were gripping the bowl of ice cream so hard Jas thought it might crack. Sheer rage seemed to have stopped her wracking sobs, though tears ran silently down her face and dripped into the ice cream.

"Would it be too much to bloody ask- to do that and _not be considered the school slag_?" Sasha leapt to her feet, flinging the bowl to the ground with a thud and clatter. She stood for a moment, staring into the fireplace, her back and shoulders rising and falling as she gulped deep breaths. Then she seemed to wilt, and she turned back to Jas. Her full lower lip was trembling slightly, and there was a plea in her green eyes that Jas rarely saw. Answering it, she stood and swiftly embraced her friend, who was of a perfect height to sob into her shoulder.

* * *

"Think of a joyous memory! Let it fill you up, from your toenails to your hair!"

"Perhaps we could get it in I.V.?" Sasha murmured to Jas, who looked at her quizzically. "Sorry," she amended. "Muggle joke." Jas sighed at her friend's sense of humor, and both girls returned their focus to the Patronus charms they were working on. They had spent the last Defense Against the Dark Arts class discussing the theory and uses of the Patronus Charm (and the subsequent night writing an essay about it), and now Lupin was having them try it out. The sunny classroom as now full of silver air, some of it in animal forms which romped about as their creators stared in amazement.

Sasha closed her eyes and wracked her brain for a happy thought. Unfortunately, all she could think about was what happened the night before, which was more than enough to erase all positive thoughts from her mind. Finally, she settled on the time her father had announced to her that he had found someone he loved. She could remember staring up at the tall man her father brought in. With his big nose and crooked grin, he was not particularly handsome, but she could see by the way he and her father looked at each other that they were head over heels. Tristan had moved in the next week, and their little family had thrived.

Mentally clutching at the memory of Tristan and her father gazing at each other, Sasha opened her eyes and said, "_Expecto Patronum!"_ as she swooshed her wand out in front of her, arm extended.

Her wand expelled a small amount of silver shimmer, which hung in the air for a moment before dispelling. Sasha scowled.

"_Expecto Patronum!_ Oh!" Hearing Jas's reaction, Sasha turned to see that a large silver parrot was perched on her friend's shoulder, preening her hair with its beak. Jas was grinning from ear to ear.

"Nice, Jas. It can ask the Dementors if they want a cracker," Sasha said, trying to keep her frustration from coming through. She'd been trying for the better part of the class period to create a Patronus, and had little success. To make matters worse, most of her classmates were currently admiring their own silvery animals.

"How is it coming, Sasha?" She turned to see Professor Lupin walking over to her, hands in his pockets. He stopped momentarily as Jas' parrot swooped around his head, and he smiled at its playful antics. "Very nice, Jas. Now, dispel it and practice summoning it some more. Ideally, you won't have to focus so intensely on the happy memory."

"Yes, sir," Jas said. She raised her wand and was immediately preoccupied with getting her Patronus to hold still so she could dispel it. Chuckling, Lupin continued over to where Sasha was standing, her arms crossed.

"I seem to be having some difficulties, sir," she said in response to his earlier query. "My wand looks like it's sneezing." She saw his lips twitch at the description, but he was tactful enough not to actually grin.

"Hmm…" he mused, cocking his head slightly to one side and gazing at her. "The memory you're using- is it a really happy one?"

"Yes, sir. It's one of the happiest days of my life, so far as I can remember," Sasha replied. "And I'm concentrating so hard on it I think I might sprain my brain."

Lupin thought for a moment. "Are there any unhappy memories that might be associated with this one?"

Sasha started to reply that there were none, but she stopped. Of course. How could she have forgotten the day they got the test results back- positive? "There is one … How can I compensate?"

Before Lupin could reply, the bell rang. Sighing, he said, over the noise of students rushing for the door, "Try to block out the unpleasant memory and really let the happiness of the good one fill you up."

"All right, sir. I'll practice." Sasha turned to collect her bag and was halfway to the door when Lupin spoke.

"Sasha…if you ever need to talk- about anything- you just have to ask. My door is unlocked, if not always open."

Lupin clearly had not believed her one bit when she told him she was fine the previous night. She half turned, looking at him over her shoulder. He had definitely taken up the position of unofficial school counselor at Hogwarts. He was well suited to it- friendly, kind, a good listener, and he seemed to genuinely care about the emotional well-being of his students. But kindness and empathy were not what Sasha usually turned to, and so she simply replied, "I understand. Thank you, sir," before exiting the classroom.

* * *

"_Expecto Patronum . . . _Damn!"

It was the Saturday after the silver- infused DADA lesson and Sasha was in an empty room, trying to think happy thoughts.

It wasn't working. Her wand was emitting steadily weaker spurts of silver, and she was just getting more frustrated. The memory of first meeting Tristan was now inextricably linked to the one of his HIV results coming back, and now it was pointless even to try using it- her throat choked off, and she couldn't say the incantation. Apparently, such thinking was contagious, and now she had managed to link every happy memory she could muster with one that was unhappy.

With a sigh, she flopped onto the dusty dungeon floor and leaned against the wall. The cool stone was soothing on her back, and she took advantage of a protrusion to scratch an itch between her shoulder blades. She seized the bottle of butterbeer she'd taken, at Dobby's insistence, from the stores of the house-elf Winky, and took a deep draught. There was no way it would have any affect on her, but it was refreshing. Sasha cracked her knuckles, lazily thought of the last Potions test she'd aced and intoned, "_Expecto Patronum."_ A feeble spurt of silver jumped out of the end of her wand and disappeared almost instantly.

"Gods," she muttered to herself, "it looks like it's ejaculating…" Despite herself she chuckled, then laughed outright, her sides heaving as she gasped for breath. _I'm wanking off my wand_, she thought, wiping tears from her eyes. _Wonderful_. With a last giggle and a sigh, she levered herself to her feet, but froze at a soft, "Ahem," from the doorway.

She whirled and saw Professor Snape leaning against the frame, arms crossed, looking amused. She felt herself go red.

"P-Professor, hello," she said clumsily. Trying to regain some of her composure, she said, "I didn't see you there, sir."

"I overheard you as I passed, Miss Cupris," he said. "I thought somebody might have hit you with a Tickling Charm and left you to your fate." He straightened and turned to go. Sasha tried to keep her eyes from roaming over his lean body. Talk about happy thoughts…


	7. Chapter 7: A Silver Lining

Chapter 7: A Silver Lining

Severus turned to go, seeing there was no chance his useful assistant was going to laugh herself into the hospital wing, but something made him stop and turn back. He glimpsed the girl hastily hiding the admiring expression on her face with one of polite puzzlement.

"What were you doing here, Miss Cupris?" he inquired softly, staring intently into her eyes. She bit her lip and looked away, shifting her weight uneasily. Whatever it was, she didn't want to tell him- which of course made him all the more determined to find out.

"Er…nothing really, sir. Just…relaxing," she said. She wouldn't look at him when she said it, and she was twirling her wand nervously in her hand. He wondered if she was normally a terrible liar, or if it was because it was him she was lying to.

"Really?" he replied. "You choose to relax in empty dungeon classrooms? Your vacation destinations must be _fascinating_." Severus smirked as she blushed. Then he added, in a dangerously low voice, "I don't appreciate being lied to, Miss Cupris. Besides, you are an abysmal liar."

Her head snapped up at that statement, and her eyes narrowed in annoyance. Apparently, fancying him didn't stop her from getting mad at him. Cupris held his gaze for a second, and then she heaved a sigh and admitted, "Sorry, sir. I was practicing a spell." After a moment, she added, "I work down here sometimes, sir. There are usually fewer distractions."

Severus did not miss the slight emphasis on "usually," and he guessed that there had been none before he arrived. Slughorn was not a bat like him, and had chosen to live in airy quarters on the fourth floor, rather than underground. The thick layer of dust on the floor told him that Cupris was probably the only person to set foot in the room for a long time. Not to mention that he qualified as a certain kind of distraction.

There was a long pause as he considered the girl, and she, in turn, stared at the tops of her trainers. Severus's Slytherin mind was whirring, wondering if there was a way he could benefit from the current situation. After a few seconds, he concluded that more information was needed.

"Which spell were you attempting?" he asked, knowing that the word "attempting," would enrage the Ravenclaw girl. Members of that house hated being accused of any intellectual failings, and, sure enough, Cupris stiffened, and her fists clenched. Her answer, when it came, was tight with anger.

"I was _performing_ the Patronus Charm, sir," She looked back up at him, and he suppressed a smirk at how far back she had to crane her head in order to meet his gaze. He liked being tall.

"Really? Then I suppose your Patronus is an amoeba? It certainly resembled one."

Cupris' eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her stance to one of defiance. "I didn't say I was performing it particularly _well_, sir. I seem to be having some trouble coming up with a suitable memory." The girl stopped suddenly, green eyes widening, and it looked to Severus that she hadn't meant to tell him that.

"Hm," he grunted, tapping his mouth with one finger as he affected an air of thoughtfulness. Slowly, he circled the girl, adjusting his walk so his boots made an ominous _click-thump_ on the stone floor. She stared straight ahead, body rigid, and Severus could hear her accelerated breathing.

"Arms at your sides, Miss Cupris," he commanded suddenly. Cupris glanced at him, startled, but obeyed, loosely holding her wand in her right hand. "Close your eyes."

He spiraled towards her, until he was barely a foot away from her, moving silently now, watching her eyes shuttle back and forth behind her lids. "Clear your mind of all thoughts," he said, softly. "All troubles, ideas, emotions … let them go. Make your mind blank." He was speaking practically in her ear now, voice just above a whisper, and he saw her shiver slightly. Severus knew he was probably making it extremely difficult for her to clear her mind entirely.

"Now, search your mind and find a…_pleasurable_ memory," he continued silkily. He watched her shoulders tense for a moment at the word "pleasurable," and he smirked. "Once you have one, concentrate on it. Let it become your entire existence. Nothing else matters but that memory."

Cupris frowned slightly, biting her lower lip in her effort to obey him. Severus stopped walking and commanded, "Open your eyes and cast the spell."

The girl opened her eyes, staring straight ahead with a burning intensity. She took a deep breath, brought her wand up swiftly and bellowed "_Expecto patronum!"_

A pathetic shower of silver was ejected from her wand, and it hung in the air for several seconds before vanishing.

* * *

"Goddammit!" Sasha said heatedly, glaring at the space where the silver cloud had hung. She placed one hand on her hip and stared at the empty air as though she could make a Patronus appear through force of will. She had been focusing so hard, but it was difficult with Snape whispering in her ear like some kind of phone sex operator. If he had known about her feelings, she would have accused him of purposely distracting her.

"Five points from Ravenclaw for language unbecoming a lady."

Sasha whirled to face Snape, mouth opened to protest, but she snapped it shut before she could do any real damage. His eyes were glittering in way that said he would love an excuse to take more points from her house, and she refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she crossed her arms and glared at him. He looked back at her calmly, and she felt herself start to melt under the gaze of those black eyes. Why was he so damn _sexy_? Images from her most recent dream appeared in her mind, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him, and decided to become extremely interested in the pattern of the flagstones in the floor.

_It was Christmas, and a heated rendezvous under the mistletoe had resulted in Snape and Sasha gradually making their way to his dungeon quarters- gradually, because they stopped every twenty feet to kiss each other senseless. Sasha had managed to unbutton his robes about half way, revealing a white undershirt over a well-defined chest. Her hair, which earlier had been nicely arranged, was now a wild tangle of sweaty locks, and his was the same, except greasier. _

_Sasha was once again pressed against a wall, but this time she felt wood against her shoulder blades, and one of his hands stopped its delightful exploration of her body to reach behind her and fumble for the doorknob. They half fell into his room, and she caught a glimpse of a dungeon sparsely furnished in dark green, faintly scented with cedar, before he scooped her up in his arms and proceeded to carry her through another door, which he kicked open. Snape never took his eyes off of hers, so it wasn't until she actually hit the satin sheets that she realized they were in the bedroom- _

Sasha forced herself to stop there. Snape always gave her the uncomfortable feeling that he could read her mind, and whether or not he actually could, she was reluctant to share this dream with him.

"Are your shoes providing you with the happy thoughts you need, Miss Cupris?" Snape asked sarcastically, breaking her reverie completely. "Unless they are, I see no reason for you to study them so intently."

Sasha looked up at him thoughtfully. "My shoes, sir? No, sir. Just a thought I had…" She turned from him, trying to keep the memory of his black eyes locked on hers in her mind's eye.

"_Expecto patronum," _she intoned softly, feeling no need to shout the incantation as she had previously.

A clear torpedo of silver shot out of the end of her wand, heading straight towards the wall opposite her. Bare inches before the wall, it did a graceful turn and swam back through the air towards her;_swam_ was certainly the correct word to describe it, for when it stopped, she found herself staring into the toothy jaw of a four foot-long shark. Sasha grinned as it twined around her like some absurd cat, and she looked back at her professor, wanting to see his reaction, good or bad.

"Are you expecting some type of prize for completing a simple charm, Miss Cupris?" he snapped, scowling at her. "However, now that I once again command your attention, I should inform you that I will be expecting compensation for my time spent here today. I will request your assistance in any activity, at any time, and you will comply. That is all," With that, he spun on his heel and headed towards the door, his billowing robes blowing some dust into the air.

"_What?"_

Surprised at his statement, Sasha lost all the focus that had kept her Patronus corporeal, but she barely noticed when it winked out. She was too busy staring at Snape in outrage. What the hell did he mean by compensation? He had only been there for fifteen minutes, and it wasn't as though he had exerted himself! The man was already in command of half her Wednesday nights; what else could he need help with?

But before she could object further, he was gone. Sasha stared at the doorway, half considering running after him before deciding that, while she was angry, she was not suicidal.

She shook her head, wondering at the eccentricities of her potions master, before she raised her wand and began to focus on some of his other qualities.

"_Expecto patronum,"_

She worked for another half an hour, honing her ability to summon her Patronus, before she considered the sweat soaking her shirt and decided to call it quits. Stretching, she cracked her knuckles, then her back, and sighed at the small release of tension it provided. It was a terrible habit and Tristan hated it, but she liked the feeling and the looks of nausea on the faces of innocent bystanders. She exited the small room she had been using, and closed the door behind her.

She paused, listening. No echoing footsteps greeted her ears, and she grinned. A nice empty dungeon hallway was what she wanted.

"_He's a real nowhere man / sitting in his nowhere land / making all his nowhere plans for nobody…"_ She smiled as she sang, listening to the notes of the song as they echoed off the cold stone walls. Say what you liked about the ambiance of the dungeons, they did have nice acoustics.

As she walked, Sasha wondered if Snape could hear her.


	8. Chapter 8: On the Chopping Block

Chapter 8: On the Chopping Block**  
**

**Author's Note:**Hi guys! Thank you for writing such lovely reviews (blushes). I know this romance is a little slow, but it will be heating up soon - I just have to talk Severus around! Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:**I don't own it. Really. Though, Jo, could I borrow Severus for night or two? Please?

* * *

_The bezore is fownd in a goats stomak, and its a anditodote for lots a poisuns._

Severus closed his eyes and rubbed the arch of his nose, silently grieving for the wrongs being done to the English language in the essay he was grading. This was a third-year essay, for Merlin's sake. Was it too much to ask that a student could learn to spell "found" by age thirteen? Scowling, he dipped his quill into his Self-Refilling bottle of red ink and corrected the spelling and grammar. Turning back to the top of the parchment, he added a spiky "D" next to the miscreant's name, and tossed the essay onto the pile of graded essays that sat on the right of his desk. Sighing, Severus turned a hate-filled glare on the larger pile of essays yet to be graded that covered the left side of his desk, before reaching out and grabbing one at random. He unrolled it; quill poised, he began to ruthlessly correct the dreadful use of the comma.

_Punctuation,_ he thought,_ should not be treated like a game of Pin the Tail on the Dragon._

He let his mind wander as he graded. Students seemed to be under the impression that he liked giving them bad grades, which was not quite true. Certainly, he doled out scholastic punishment where it was needed, and he did derive some enjoyment from seeing the deeply unhappy looks on the faces of the dunderheads who failed. But, when it came down to it, he would much rather read _good_ essays. They didn't make him despair about the future of writing as an art form.

He finished the essay with a scrawled "P" and glanced at the clock. Cupris had three minutes to arrive in the classroom before he considered her late. He had devised a system to ensure her punctuality – for every minute she was late, she worked another hour.

She was rarely late.

He smirked to himself as he remembered the payment he had yet to exact from her. It wasn't that he needed any extra help- he just thoroughly enjoyed having people be in his debt and his control. And, to his surprise, some small part of him had no objection to Cupris being said person, especially if he could find some very time-consuming task for her. Severus could find something to put her unique and varied talents, (at least, relative to those of her peers) to the test. Severus was finding it as interesting to challenge her mind as it was amusing to toy with her feelings, and intermixing them during his time with her made for reasonably enjoyable alternate Wednesdays. At least, they were not _unenjoyable_, and sometimes he forgot for whole hours the rest of his miserable existence. And some nights he got to sleep after only three hours of staring at the ceiling.

All in all, she could not be called an entirely negative point in his life, and he had a few tests for her that night, the first being whether or not she was on time.

Just before the clock struck, there were two knocks on the door to his classroom.

"Enter."

The door swung open and the girl slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind her before turning to face him. She was wearing Muggle jeans and a long sleeved shirt underneath her winter cloak, her blonde hair back in a ponytail that, he knew from experience, reached halfway down her back.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, as she did every Wednesday night. She started to make her way to her usual table, but paused when she noticed that there was no cauldron on it. Her green eyes met his, and he answered the inevitable question before she could open her mouth.

"Go into the storeroom on the left and retrieve the ocularas roots. You will be slicing them. Everything is alphabetical, starting on the left wall and working up and down each shelf," he instructed, and he saw her eyebrows quirk upwards when he told her which storeroom to go in – the one on the left was his private stores, and he made it clear to all students that they would die a painful death if they ever went in there. Smart as she was, she could figure out the implied message of it – that he trusted her not to do anything stupid.

Cupris nodded, and started to walk to the door, but she stopped suddenly, and turned around, her eyes suspicious. His lips twitched as he watched her think, knowing exactly what was going through her mind. She fancied him partially for his Slytherin cunning, but she was wary of it, too; a true Ravenclaw rarely let his or her heart govern the mind, and she was an eagle to the core. He half suspected that she bled blue.

"Are there any wards on the door I should know about, sir?" she asked, with a delicacy that implied that Severus would _never_ actually try to hurt her, but that he may have forgotten, in the hustle and bustle of the day, to remove his usual protections from the door to his private stores.

"None," he answered curtly, as he casually reached for another essay to grade, deliberately not looking at her.

"Are the ingredients in there labeled?"

"No."

"Then, may I ask, what do the ocularas roots look like, sir? I have never used them before."

That was the first part of the test. Had she opened the door to the storeroom without inquiring about it, there would have been a ward on it- a Stinging Hex- but when she asked, he had silently removed it.

"They are a deep violet color, and are shaped much like carrots. You will find them in a large wooden crate, and I suggest you simply remove the entire box rather than just the roots."

"Thank you, sir." He listened to her footsteps on the stone floor as she made her way to the storeroom, and heard only the slightest of pauses before she apparently decided that it really was safe to open. The hinges creaked as the door swung open, and his sensitive nose caught the faint scent of all the ingredients, a smorgasbord of spicy, bitter, sour, rank, and floral notes that had always comforted him in some small way.

There was a minute of silence from the storeroom, which ended in a quiet groan from the girl. Severus guessed that she had located the crate of ocularas on the top shelf, which was seven feet above the ground. He could reach it with ease, but he doubted that her five-foot frame would allow her to do so.

There was a longer pause, punctuated only by the scratching of his quill as he graded yet another essay.

"Sir?" He glanced up to see Cupris poking her head out of the storeroom, looking slightly sheepish.

"What is it?" he snapped, laying down his quill as he scowled at her.

"Would you, by any chance, have a ladder or something else I could stand on? I can't reach the crate."

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, then stood up. "I need no ladders, so I keep none," he answered, striding towards the storeroom. She hastily moved aside for him as he entered, trying to give him as much room as the small space would allow. He spared a glance for the vast collection of bottles and vials that crowded the shelves; a more sentimental man would have called them his friends, but Severus simply appreciated them for their uses. As he passed the girl, he caught a scent that was not part of his ingredient collection- it was something tart and rich, almost wine-like and definitely fruit-based, but still fairly subtle. He thought he detected a few undercurrents of vanilla and a hint of sandalwood, but the main scent, though familiar, eluded him. It made him think of the color red:; deep, blood red.

Banishing the scent from his mind, he reached up for the crate, seized it by the handles on its sides, and lifted it down with little effort, his strong arms easily handing the fifteen pounds of roots. He turned to the girl and held the crate out to her, since he had no intention of carrying it back to the classroom for her. Cupris considered the box for a moment, and then slid her arms under it rather than grasping the handles, and he felt the weight his hands had been bearing ease. Severus released his grip, and the girl took the full weight with only a slight grunt of effort. His eyebrows rose; apparently her height and curvy figure belied her strength.

He made no effort to get out of _her_ way as she made her way back to the classroom, which forced her to edge past him on her way to the door. He followed her out, and then returned to his desk while she went to her table and prepared to deal with the roots.

* * *

_He must have known they were on the top shelf, the sneaky bastard!_ Sasha shot a heated glare at her professor, glad that he was focused on essays and did not see her. _It would have taken him about thirty seconds to get them out before I showed up; but no…_

She sighed. One of the chief (or only) joys in Snape's life seemed to revolve around making life a little bit more difficult than it had to be for those around him, and as she spent a lot of time with him, she was subject to this at every opportunity.

Still annoyed, she picked up the knife that was on the table and tested it with her thumb. It was dull, of course. With a soft growl, she seized the knife sharpener and attacked the blade, using the long firm strokes as an outlet for her irritation. She found herself calming as the stone whisked across the metal blade, and she fell into a thoughtful trance.

Snape's behavior had changed in the past six weeks since her impromptu Patronus lesson with him. He treated her like she actually had a brain and was capable of using it to a greater or lesser degree, though he still insulted her on a regular basis. But she often found herself in situations where he would give her some simple instruction that was laden with hidden traps, and it was up to her to ask the right question to avoid them. The traps rarely had to do with simple information and book learning – reciting rote facts and knowing obscure ingredients – but rather, were about common sense and the ability to find possible loopholes or distinctions. They were riddles, rather than trivia questions. Last Wednesday, it had been something of a logic problem- he required four ounces of a certain potion to be decanted, but he had only three-ounce and five-ounce flasks to do it with. He had impressed upon her that a mistake in measuring could be disastrous, and then left her to her own devices.

With a start, she realized that she had been sharpening the knife for almost two minutes, and it was now so sharp that she nearly sliced her thumb open with the lightest touch. Shaking her head at her own folly, she pulled out the first of the roots and was about to make the first cut when a thought occurred to her. She lowered the knife and raised her eyes to Snape's desk. "Sir?" she said.

"What is it _now_?" he snarled, glaring at her from over a roll of parchment.

"How should these be sliced, sir? And should they be peeled?"

His eyebrows rose. "Ocularas roots are never peeled, and they should be sliced into thin rondelles," he said, in the tone of voice one would use when stating a commonly known fact.

"Yes, sir," she said, and then returned to her work. Carefully holding the purple root, she began to carefully slice it, taking care to make each cut smooth and evenly spaced. She used the rock-the-knife method that Tristan, who was a cook, had taught her:; keep the point of the knife on the cutting board and use the wrist to lever the handle up and down. The roots were full of a juice that smelled of lavender, and it coated the blade of the knife with a glistening purple varnish. The steady _wsht-tap_ of the knife as it sliced through the roots and hit the table soothed her into a meditative state, and she focused intently on the task at hand, and gradually lost touch with her surroundings.

"Miss Cupris-"

"Ow!"

Startled by Snape's voice, which seemed to come from nowhere, Sasha's hand had jerked as she was bringing the knife down, and the first two fingers of her left hand were now bleeding freely as a result. Hastily, she moved her dripping hand and the bloody knife away from the table, before they could taint all of the roots. That done, she looked to her left, and found Snape studying her with what could possibly be amusement glittering in his black eyes.

"Has it ever occurred to you that not practicing constant vigilance could be dangerous?" he asked, looking down his hooked nose at her. Apparently, he was being rhetorical, for he did not wait for an answer before seizing her left wrist and drawing it towards him. He drew his wand and traced the cut, muttering "_Episky."_ The wound healed, leaving only a faint line. He dropped her wrist perfunctorily and strode back to his desk.

Sasha studied her hand for a moment, then drew her own wand and used it to clean the blood off her hand and the knife. She returned to her work, trying to keep an ear and an eye on what was going on around her.

A few minutes later, her vision blurred for a second. She stopped, blinked, and shook her head, but it did not return. She shrugged it off as the result of focusing on the roots for so long, and continued.

It happened again a little while later, only this time it lasted for a minute before going away. Sasha felt a little nervous about it, but decided only to mention it if it happened again.

Her vision did not blur again. Instead, it went black, and stayed that way.


	9. Chapter 9: Blind as a Bat

**AN: Hi! Chapter nine here, and I hope you enjoy it and send me lovely reviews (you can send me reviews if you don't enjoy it, too). Romance is in the air! Cookies to the first person to guess the fruit in Sasha's perfume.**

Chapter Nine: Blind as a Bat

Severus was nearing the end of the pile of essays when he was interrupted.

"Sir?"

He looked up to see that Cupris had stopped working and was staring off into space with an odd, unfocused look. She was not looking at him, but was looking slightly above and to the left of where he actually was. He frowned slightly. There was no visible reason why she should have stopped working.

"Yes?" he replied curtly.

"I can't see, sir."

"What do you mean, you can't see?"

The girl took a deep breath, and when she continued, he thought he heard the faintest tremor in her voice.

"I have suddenly gone blind. My vision has gone completely dark."

This was a new one. He had not picked her for a prankster or a slacker, but apparently he had misread her. "Miss Cupris, if this is some sort of prank, then I will be most displeased."

"Sir, Professor, I don't play pranks on teachers. _I can't see!"_ She was pleading now, and there was true fear in her voice; it sounded credible enough to make him go investigate the matter.

Slowly, Severus stood and advanced on her, noting that her eyes did not follow him as he moved, though she cocked her head slightly toward what little sound he made, trying to track him that way. He came to the opposite side of her table and leaned his knuckles on it, studying her intently. The color had gone from her cheeks, and her upper lip glistened slightly with sweat. He heard her breaths, short and shallow, and she was trembling ever so slightly. She did not blink when he flicked his fingers towards her eyes, nor did she try to meet his own eyes.

Apparently, she _had_ lost her vision.

"Explain to me what happened, Miss Cupris,' Severus ordered, still looking into her deep green eyes as he sought any clue as to why this had happened, but her pupils were normal; there was no clouding, discoloration or redness in her eyes that he could see.

He saw, out of the corner of his eyes, her chest heave as she took a deep breath to calm herself before answering.

"My vision first blurred a few minutes after I cut myself -,"

Severus didn't bother to listen to the rest of what she said, because she had just explained everything. Harshly, he cut off her chronicle.

"Are you Muggleborn?" he snapped.

He got the impression that, had she been able to see, she would have stared at him. As it was, she blinked and frowned, taken aback by the non sequitur he had just thrown at her.

"What?"

"Answer me, girl!" he snarled, and she flinched slightly.

"Yes, sir."

Thank Merlin. He knew what had happened and how to fix it, but he had to act fast before there was any permanent damage. Without a further word, he swooped around the desk, grabbed her wrist and tugged. Out of reflex, Cupris yanked back, but he applied a bit of pressure and she relaxed and followed the direction of his pull.

Moving more slowly than he'd like, Severus led her around the table and toward the door that led to his private labs and quarters. It would be easier to brew the remedy in there since there was always a cauldron set up over a stand, and he had arranged it so that he could summon what he ingredients he needed from his private stores._Hmmm_…_mandrake, unicorn tail hair, beetle eyes, essence of mugwort_… Rapidly, Severus went through the list of ingredients in his head, as well as the process for the creation of the curative.

Suddenly, there was the distinct scuffling sound of someone tripping, and half a second later he found himself with an armful of Cupris.

In his pre-brewing reverie, he had forgotten that he was leading a blind girl and that there were two flagstones that had an inch difference in height near the front of his classroom. After years of working in this room, Severus automatically avoided them, but the girl was not so lucky.

Fortunately for them both, Severus was strong, and though having a girl fall into him knocked him off-balance, he was able to recover and hold her up while she found her footing. At this close range, he was acutely aware of the mysterious scent he had barely noticed earlier, not to mention the fact that the girl currently clutching one of his shoulders and leaning against his chest was… _curvy_. A head of golden blonde hair met his eyes when he glanced down, and he hastily dragged his eyes back up before they could linger.

The hand that had clutched his shoulder now pushed hard against it, and the girl managed to get herself back on her feet. Her pulse was racing in the wrist he still held, and the color had returned to her cheeks. She was trembling.

"Sorry, sir," Cupris said, staring at a point somewhere near his left ear. "I tripped." Self-accusing though her words seemed to be, Severus heard in their tone, "You weren't paying attention, and so I tripped." Unfortunately, she had a point. He made a mental note to remember that he was leading her around by the wrist for a reason, and since he _definitely_ did not want to be holding her up again, he would be a bit more careful.

Not replying, he tugged on her wrist again, but this time he checked the ground in front of her and led her around possible obstacles, making sure that she did not trip over the threshold to his office, because he hadn't enjoyed having her pressed up against him in the least. Not at all. He had _not_ noticed the way her full breasts flattened against his chest, nor had he been stirred by the scent of her perfume or the sight of her hair.

He stopped her once they were inside his office and shut the door. It was a small dungeon room, furnished only with a couple of three-legged stools arranged around two cauldrons on either end of a long table. A gargoyle fountain, identical to the one in the classroom, poured fourth icy lake water into a stone cistern. There was a door on the left that led directly into his private stores, though it was disguised as a wall. A flick of his wand was all it took to make the façade disappear and reveal the small, shelf-lined room that he and the girl had been in just ten minutes before.

Severus tugged Cupris towards one of the stools, but paused. Seating a temporarily sightless person on a three-legged stool did not seem wise, and so he transfigured it into a small wooden chair, and after another thought, he added arms to it. That finished, he led the girl over to the chair and carefully turned her around so her back was to it.

"Miss Cupris, there is a chair behind you; back up and you will find it," he instructed. She nodded, and carefully edged backwards, stopping when the backs of her knees hit the edge of the seat. With one hand, she groped and found one of the arms. Hesitantly, she lowered herself until she was seated safely, at which time Severus released her wrist.

"Stay," he commanded, before he turned and went to start the potion.

From behind him, he heard her mutter, "Not a problem." He smiled slightly; blind she might be, but she was sarcastic nonetheless.

* * *

It was dark. Really dark. Sasha sat in the chair Snape had guided her to and tried not to shake from fear.

She was afraid. Afraid she would never see again, which would mean that she couldn't keep brewing potions. And if she couldn't brew, she couldn't continue trying to find something that would help Tristan.

Sasha shook herself mentally, putting thoughts of permanent blindness from her mind. She needed something to distract herself, and at the moment, Snape was her only option. She could hear him moving around, chopping ingredients, muttering to himself on occasion. From where the sounds were coming from, she guessed him to be about ten feet away from her, slightly to her left. Heat came from that direction, and so did a peppery, bitter scent that she guessed was from the potion she heard bubbling.

He still hadn't explained to her what had happened, or what the process for reversing it was, so she decided to find out.

"Excuse me, sir," she began, carefully, "but why exactly am I blind right now? I mean," she added, guessing that a snarky retort was headed her way, "I know it has something to do with the fact that I cut myself with the knife, and that the ocularas juice was on the blade, but why does it matter that I'm Muggleborn?"

There was a moment of silence, and Sasha cracked her knuckles nervously, simply for something to do. Finally, he answered her, his soft voice carrying over the bubbling of the potion, and providing her with something else to think about.

"The juice of ocularas is used in potions that cure vision problems, and it can be ingested by Muggleborns and purebloods with no ill effects. However," Snape continued, "its effects differ when it comes in direct contact with non-wizard blood."

Sasha was curious now, her Ravenclaw yearning for knowledge pushing her to ask more. "Does it affect the eyes themselves or the optical nerves that lead to the brain?"

"There has been no definitive answer to that. Given that your eyes, Miss Cupris, have no visible changes to them, I believe that it affects the nerves."

"I see, sir," she replied. After a moment, she added, "Figuratively speaking, that is." She heard the faintest of snorts from Snape, almost drowned in the vigorous bubbling noises that were coming from the cauldron. Metal scraped on pewter, and after a moment, she heard liquid splashing into liquid, then the soft _thunk_ of something being set down on wood.

It really was incredible how sounds seemed to have different meaning when she was blind. Each one seemed to carry an image or a feeling with it, and they were all very specific. There was a difference between the forceful sound a knife made as it _thwacked_ down on a cutting board and the softer sound of something being placed on that board. Bubbling sounded different from splashing, and feet shifting sounded different from something being slid across the table. It was really quite intense.

Now she heard Snape's footsteps coming towards her, and she felt the faintest of breezes, probably from his billowing robes. The steps stopped in front of her, and Sasha felt, quite acutely, the warmth from his body, and she noticed that he smelled spicy – very much like the potion he had been brewing, but slightly more… _male_. The fear brought on by her lack of vision had temporarily divested her of most of her attraction, but now that she was slightly more relaxed, Sasha remembered exactly how nice it had felt to fall into Snape's arms, and that he had seemed to hold her for a second while she recovered her composure.

Long, cool fingers slid under her chin, and she couldn't help but gasp at their touch. Gently, her face was lifted upwards, and she thought she felt warm breath. Something cool and smooth – _glass_, she realized – was gently pressed against her lower lip, and the peppery smell that until then had been only a whiff suddenly flooded her nostrils.

_Pepper…nostrils…ohbugger_-!

Sasha whipped her head left, jerking away from those wonderful fingers, and sneezed until she felt her eyes start watering.

A low, sensual chuckle came from the area where she believed Snape to be standing. Sasha whipped her head back around, her mouth falling open in shock.

"Sir?" she blurted, before she realized what she was saying. "Did you just…?" She managed to stop herself before she actually said "laugh."

"Surreal as it may seem, I do have the capacity for humor," Snape growled, and Sasha cringed slightly at the anger she felt behind those words.

"I apologize, sir," she said, hanging her head while she mentally whacked it against a wall.

She heard him sigh, and then those wonderful fingers lifted her head up again, and the vial was pressed to her lips once more. Thankfully, her nose did not object to the fumes this time.

"Drink."

Sasha obediently parted her lips, and she felt the vial tilt, and hot, but not scalding, liquid was poured slowly into her mouth. To her surprise, it didn't really taste like anything; certainly it was not the foul concoction she had been expecting.

When she had drunk every drop of it, the vial was removed from her lips, though Snape's fingers remained under her chin.

All she had to do now was sit and wait for the darkness to go away.

* * *

Snape considered the young woman sitting in the chair in front of him. He searched her green eyes for any sign of focus or attention, waiting to see if they would fix on his eyes with the sureness that heralded vision. For some reason, the thought of her not being able to look directly at him again made his stomach clench, and though some distant part of his mind told him that he had administered the remedy to her in plenty of time for her to recover fully, he was worried.

She really had done remarkably well, all things considered. She had not panicked, nor had she asked stupid questions about what he was doing. Most students would have demanded to be taken to the hospital wing; even though that would have wasted time and risked their eyesight, they did not want to be treated by the dark Potions Master.

But Cupris had trusted him. It had been a long time since someone had trusted Severus the way she just had, especially when in such a vulnerable state, and it made him feel… acceptable to others. For a man who generally went out of his way to be as unlikable as possible, it was an odd feeling, but by no means an entirely unpleasant one.

As he stared into her eyes, Cupris blinked, suddenly and rapidly, and then squinted. Her pupils dilated, and then contracted in response to the light they had been deprived of for half an hour. She looked into Severus' eyes and smiled warmly, albeit wobbily.

"You don't know how nice it is to see you again, sir."

Severus bit back a sigh of relief, and gazed back at her, before remembering that he was still cradling her jaw, and hastily retracted his hands. "I believe that is enough for one night, Miss Cupris. Dismissed," he said, shortly, turning back to the door to his classroom and opening it for her. There was a pause while the woman glanced around his office, noting the cauldron he had used and the scraps of ingredients on the table, before she stood and exited calmly, leaving a trail of that elusive scent wafting under Severus' large nose.

Before she reached the door to the corridor, she stopped and turned, brow furrowed slightly.

"The remedial potion I brewed is called Corrective Corneal Concoction, and it may be found in _Restorative Brews for Non-Healers_." He smirked at the brief look of startlement that passed across her face, but then to his surprise, she gave a soft, sensuous chuckle that seemed to say, _but of course._

'Thank you, sir. Good night." With that innocuous statement, Cupris took her leave.

Severus spent an hour that night staring at the ceiling, trying to name the tantalizing fruit scent in the perfume she was wearing.


	10. The Most Important Meal of the Day

**AN: Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive! Chapter ten! Thank you for sticking with it, even though it's a slow building romance. But now Severus has decided to join the party, so love can soon ensue. Don't think it will be easy for either of them though!**

Chapter Ten: The Most Important Meal of the Day

_Forget the Philosopher's Stone,_ Sasha thought the next morning as she collapsed into a seat in the Great Hall, _coffee is the real elixir of life._ Moving as quickly as her half-asleep mind would allow, she seized a mug and filled it with coffee, reveling in the rich scent and dark color. Glancing around, she wrested the milk jug from the first year sitting across from her, who pointedly glared from his dry cereal to her.

Sasha passed it back with a falsely sweet, "Thank you!" before depriving him of the sugar bowl. She added a touch of sugar, stirred, and then downed a third of the beverage in one gulp. The important thing was to get it into her system so she could be awake to savor the rest of the cup, not to mention the second one. Sighing happily, she began to search for the bacon.

"Looking for this?"

Sasha grinned and turned to look up at Jas, who had appeared beside her, holding a platter of bacon and looking far too awake for someone who was not caffeinated. "You know me too well," she said reaching for it, only to have Jas move out of reach.

"I saw the little stunt you pulled with his milk. Be nice and say sorry."

Sasha glared up at her friend, who smiled down at her politely, flicking a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes. It was clear that she was not going to relinquish the bacon until amends had been made. With a resigned sigh, she turned to the now-smug first year and said, "Sorry." He smiled triumphantly, and she resisted the urge to turn his cereal into wood shavings, since it would probably result in Jas Vanishing the toast.

"Very nice," Jas said, sliding down into the seat next to Sasha and handing over her reward.

"Your Hufflepuffian tendencies are going to kill me."

"A Hufflepuff wouldn't have held the bacon hostage. They just would have asked you to apologize."

"True. And a Gryffindor would have forced me at wand point, while reading me a lecture on being kind to children." Sasha made a face at the thought of that house. They always had to be so bloody _noble_ - everything had to be a grand gesture with them. No subtlety at all. And if she heard "I'm in Harry Potter's house…" one more time, she was going to start handing out scars, free of charge.

Shaking her head, she decided to focus on something more cheerful, and was given the opportunity when an owl dropped a package on the table, nearly hitting her coffee, and landed gracefully on the handle of the bread basket. Brown wings flapped a few times as he balanced himself, and a pair of orange eyes turned toward her in a silent greeting. Sasha smiled and reached out to tickle him under the beak, which caused him to half-close his eyes in pleasure.

"Hello, Archimedes," she murmured, still scratching his sensitive spot. "What did Tristan send me, hmmm?" Archimedes was Tristan's owl, and whenever he showed up it meant that her stepfather had decided to spice up her gastronomic variety with some exotic food. Tristan was a chef, and Sasha blessed him often for providing her something interesting to eat every once in a while. Not that Hogwarts food was bad, by any means; she just got a little tired of rich, heavy, English food after a month of nothing else.

The owl hooted softly in protest when she stopped scratching to open the package, but he resigned himself to it and flew off to the owlery for a nap.

The package was wrapped in brown paper and tied with white cord. It seemed to contain several large, vaguely spherical objects, and did not rattle when Sasha picked it up to examine it. She didn't bother looking for a note – Tristan generally placed his letters inside the packaging. He claimed it was because he didn't want to make anyone wait to open their present just to read a mindless greeting card.

"Here."

Sasha gratefully accepted the knife Jas offered, and sawed through the cords with the ease of long practice. Setting the knife down, she saw that the package was actually a paper bag rather than wrapping paper. Eagerly, she unrolled the top, reached inside, and grasped something smooth and firm; Sasha pulled her hand out, and could not restrain a cry of delight at what was produced.

"Mangoes!" Two of them, to be exact, both at the stage of not-quite- ripeness that she preferred – they were still tart and juicy, but not mushy or overly sweet. She gazed at them happily, admiring the mottled shades of red, yellow, and a little bit of green that covered their skin. Her mouth was already watering.

"Sasha! You missed something, love." Jas was delving into the bag again, and produced something round, red and leathery, along with a parchment envelope that bore a purple wax seal shaped like a chef's hat.

"He sent you a pomegranate!" she gushed, examining it with delight. Jas turned to look at Sasha, who was reaching for the letter with the hand not currently holding two mangoes. "Can I have your stepdad?"

"You'll have to negotiate with my biological dad for that," Sasha replied, breaking the seal and unfolding the letter. "But be prepared for a fight – he won't want to give up Tristan's lamb tikka masala. Come to think of it, you'll have to fight me, too."

Jas heaved an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. Sasha grinned and then turned to the letter.

_Dear Sash', _

_I thought you might start throwing steak and kidney pie at your teachers if I didn't give you an alternative source of nutrition. Now all the other kids can be jealous of you (or, at least, more jealous than they are normally). There's a preserving spell on the fruit – they will stay at their current level of ripeness for as long as you want. They won't bruise, either. _

_Your lovely father and I are just peachy, particularly since we went shopping at Barney's last weekend. He got this fabulous leather jacket, and we got you something, too - look for it around the 25__th__ of December. _

_Have fun (but not too much fun)!_

_Love,_

_Tristan and Dad_

_P.S. My sister announced that she's coming over for Christmas. Since we don't want a reenactment of the Final Battle in the sitting room, you might want to stay at school. _

_P.P.S. Not that we don't love you, but we prefer the ceiling without holes._

"I love him," Sasha said fondly, stowing the letter in her school bag; she would reply to it later. For the time being, she seized a knife and attacked one of the mangoes. Neatly, she sliced it all around the pit and handed half the slices to Jas before biting into one of her own. Juice rolled down her chin when her teeth sank into the thick flesh, and she licked every drop of it off her lips before going back for more. She chewed slowly, savoring each mouthful, and she scraped every last morsel of fruit off of the skin, licking it clean. There was something wonderfully uncouth about eating like this.

* * *

Severus, despite the fact that he looked like a vampire and haunted dark dungeons, was by nature a morning person. Not that he was cheerful about it, but he was always fully alert from the moment he rolled out of bed, and had been known to brew potions before having even a single cup of coffee. He still drank the stuff, but he liked knowing that he didn't need to; independence was something he valued. 

He considered the smorgasbord of breakfast items in front of him, as always vaguely amazed that so many different kinds of food had been invented for a meal that most people ate while half-asleep. Coming to a decision, he reached past diminutive Professor Flitwick to seize the basket of muffins. In doing so, his gaze passed over the Ravenclaw table, where it was brought to an abrupt halt.

Sasha Cupris was eating a mango. To be more exact, she was devouring a mango with the gusto most people reserved for chocolate truffles, and she did so in a manner that was so unconsciously erotic that Severus could not look away. The way her teeth sank into the orange flesh of the fruit was fierce, almost primal; but the slow way she chewed, with her eyes half-closed in pleasure, was soft and sensuous. She licked a trail of juice from her lips and chin, and Severus swallowed hard and managed to tear his eyes away.

_It should be illegal to eat like that_, he thought as he jerked the muffins toward himself so violently that one flew into Flitwick's lap. _I should give her detention for…for…_

For what? Extremely attractive fruit eating? Devouring a mango with intent to arouse? Even for his famously broad standards of what deserved a detention, that was pushing it. Scowling, he ripped a piece off the muffin and placed it in his mouth, but nearly spat it back out again when he tasted it. Half-choking, he swallowed and hastily gulped coffee to get the taste out of his mouth.

_Whoever invented zucchini muffins and made them look like banana ones should be killed_, he snarled silently, selecting his next muffin with more care, while determinedly not looking at the Ravenclaw table. He was about to bite into a pumpkin-cranberry muffin when the bell rang, and the food that had remained on his plate vanished, though the pastry he held remained. Severus growled, stood, and swept towards the exit, hoping he would catch a student misbehaving so he could take his bad morning out on them.

Halfway down the main corridor, he caught sight of a familiar blond head, the hair unbound and flowing down her back in waves; it was a state he rarely saw it in since he required her to tie it back in the Potions classroom. It really was a remarkable color – a true golden blonde, a color generally found on empty-headed damsels in insipid fairy tales, though Severus knew full well that Cupris was nothing like them. No, she was intelligent, creative, competent, and snarky to boot. Those green eyes held wit that could match his, but he had seen fear and compassion in them on occasion, and seeing those vulnerabilities served to make her more human than any mythical princess.

"Hey, Cupris!"

Severus started when he heard a voice – a _male_ voice – call her name, and he felt his hand reflexively reach for his wand, though he wasn't really sure why. Quickly, he scanned the crowd and saw Decoste making his way toward Sasha, standing a head above most of his peers. Severus noted that Sasha –_Cupris_, he reminded himself_- _had stopped near the wall and seemed to be waiting to see if the person who had hailed her would track her down. With a quick Disillusionment Charm, he concealed himself and carefully made his way over to where she was, using a nearby suit of armor to lurk behind.

Her face darkened when Decoste emerged from the crowd, and her posture changed subtly, becoming firmer and more defensive. She squared her shoulders, planted her feet and lifted her chin slightly; one hand crept toward a pocket the wizard would bet contained her wand. Severus, after decades as a spy, could read body language like he could read books; everything he saw told him that the witch was fully prepared for Decoste to attempt some mischief upon her person.

If he did, she would not be without aid. Severus drew his wand and waited for the fun to start.

"Can I help you?" was the first thing she said, and her tone put frost on the suit of armor; the cocky spring abruptly went out of Decoste's stride, and he came to a halt, almost tripping over himself in the process. He rapidly collected himself, leaning on one leg and cocking his hips to the side. Severus noticed that his shirt was untucked and his tie very loose, probably so he would look a bit more rakish than sweaters and slacks generally allow.

"Yes. Er, no, actually; I mean…" Decoste trailed off, flushing a slight pink, and then tried again.

"I was just going to apologize for what happened last month," he stated in what seemed to Severus to be a very overdramatic manner. Clearly, Sasha was no more impressed than he; one blond eyebrow rose in what he recognized as his own signature expression of contempt.

"But there are so many things that you could be apologizing for which occurred last month," the witch replied, still cold as the Durmstrang dungeons. "For instance, you were in existence last month, which certainly warrants an apology."

Decoste flushed even darker, and he crossed his arms. "What I meant, Cupris, was the night we ran into each other in the dungeons and I… wasn't very polite."

"By "wasn't very polite," you mean that you basically treated me like a slag, until I slammed you against the wall and scared what sense you have out of you?"

It was all Severus could do to keep himself from jumping out and hexing the hell out of the younger wizard. That whelp had treated this intelligent young woman like she was a slut? Mentally, he pictured all the inventive Dark hexes he knew all being cast on Decoste at once. Had he been slightly calmer, he would have wondered at this sudden bout of protectiveness he was feeling towards the witch; as it was, he ground his teeth together and resolved to make Decoste's life hell for a little while.

While Severus had been wrestling with his sudden need for Decoste's head on a platter, there had been a prolonged silence from the two younger people. Decoste broke it.

"Yeah, that." He heaved a sigh and uncrossed his arms, reaching towards Sasha in a pleading manner. "Look, Cupris, I'm sorry about what I said and did. A girl had just broken up with me –,"

"Imagine that."

"And I just wasn't in a good mood, and then you showed up, and I remembered what happened this spring, so I decided to try. I just…went too far. I'm sorry." The floor seemed to catch the boy's interest at this time, and he hung his head, all the confidence gone out of him for the moment.

Sasha contemplated him for a minute, one finger unconsciously caressing the arch of her nose; Severus had often seen her do this when she was thinking hard about something, though with him it was usually a potion she was considering, not a young man. He found himself appreciating her strong nose; it spoke of the strength that lay under her pretty features. Besides, he had never cared for women with small, "cute" noses – he felt they made his look even more enormous in comparison.

The witch's shoulders heaved as she let out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Apology accepted, if only because I know you won't leave me alone until you feel forgiven," she snapped. Decoste's head shot back up, and there was a hopeful glint in his eyes that neither Severus nor Sasha missed.

"And bugger off, before I make you even sorrier for bothering me," she added, reaching for her wand with a dangerous look in her eyes.

It was extremely entertaining to watch the boy's survival instincts war with his Gryffindor pride and courage. His eyes flicked to Sasha's wand hand several times, though he had resumed his cocky stance. Finally, the neurons in his brain found each other, and he slowly backed away with an overly casual nod before slipping into the crowd and heading off to class at an expedient pace.

Severus smirked to himself, then ended the Disillusionment Charm and stepped out form behind the armor, gliding silently over the stone floor. Sasha took no notice of him; instead, she was staring into space, still absently rubbing her nose in thought. He felt a scowl creep onto his face as it occurred to him that she might be thinking about Decoste, though it probably wasn't in a flattering light.

That made him pause. Why was he thinking about this woman and her opinions on a fellow student with jealousy? He stared at her for a minute, glad that she still took no notice of him. Gods, that hair was really amazing. He could remember how silky it felt when he had plaited it, back when he had simply been playing with her feelings for his own entertainment…

Again! Again she slipped into his mind and there was some feeling attached to her. Softly, he growled in irritation. He was Severus Snape, Potions Master and Unfeeling Dungeon Bat. No young woman was going to insinuate herself into _his_ mind, no matter how intelligent, pretty, witty, resourceful, talented…

That was _it._ Severus strode up to her, seized one shoulder and spun her around smirking when she yelped in surprise.

"You are ten minutes late for class, Miss Cupris, so I think it will be ten points from Ravenclaw," he hissed vindictively, staring down into her eyes. He regretted doing that, for those green eyes were captivating. As he looked into them, watching attraction and anger fight for dominance in their depths, he became aware of that same rich scent she had been wearing the night before, and he inhaled it unconsciously.

"Professor?"

"What?" he snapped, jerking out of his reverie and refocusing his gaze on her face. To his surprise, her full lips were curled in a slight smirk, and his brow furrowed in annoyance and confusion. The most feared man at the school was glaring down at her, obviously angry, and she was smirking?

"I have a free period right now, sir."

_Damn._ He straightened, still staring down his hooked nose at her, trying to harden his heart against those eyes so he could come up with an appropriate retort to her impertinence.

"Be that as it may, Miss Cupris, you were loitering in the hallways. I suggest you remove yourself to some area more appropriate for study," he said with more righteousness than he felt. A thought occurred to him, and it was now his turn to smirk triumphantly.

"Besides, we wouldn't want Mr. Decoste to return and find you here and think that you were waiting for him. It might give him… ideas." With that, Severus strode past her down the corridor, head held high with the knowledge that he had the last word.

* * *

Sasha watched him stride down the corridor, robes snapping and waving like black banners in a wind. _How much did he hear?_ she wondered, with no small amount of worry. Obviously, it had been enough to give him the gist of her feelings towards Decoste, but with his talents for manipulating information – _and people_, she added mentally- he easily could have refrained from giving away all he knew, not to mention what he thought of it. If he had overheard the whole conversation, there was no apparent reason why it would have put him so out of sorts – he disliked Decoste at least as much as Sasha did, that much was clear.

He had been annoyed about something, anyway, which was pretty much par for the course for Snape. But there had been something, a look in his eyes when they found hers, that made her wonder exactly what had been going through his mind. For a moment, she thought she might have seen something new in the depths of those cold, black orbs, something akin to appreciation, or – dare she think it?- attraction. For a minute, he had just looked into her eyes and breathed a little more deeply than was normal before she spoke. If she didn't know better, she would have said that he was gazing into the windows of her soul while inhaling her perfume.

_What am I, mental? My raging hormones are making me imagine things_, Sasha decided, shaking her head rapidly to dispel such foolish notions.

But her Ravenclaw mind, carefully trained never to discard knowledge, filed that idea away in case it was needed later.

AN, v. 2.0: So yeah... this is a fun little chappie to ease the way to Christmas break, where there will be parties, fights, and few students around... in other words, the perfect time for love to blossom!


	11. Chapter 11: Love Potion No 9

Chapter 11: Love Potion No. 9

The weeks until Christmas holiday flew by, though Sasha suspected this was because she spent all her time doing schoolwork and studying for end-of-term tests. Since it was N.E.W.Ts year, the teachers were all working the seventh-years incredibly hard. Sleep was a thing of the past for most of the seventh-years, and there was something comforting in seeing her classmates sporting the same dark circles and weary expressions that she did.

Fortunately, several students dedicated themselves to finding the best ways to make studying reasonably enjoyable. Several Hogsmeade study sessions were arranged, in which they basically took over the Three Broomsticks, shoved all the tables together and worked for hours over mugs of hot butterbeer. Twice, groups of students stole to the kitchens at night and were feasted by house-elves as they worked.

The best one by far, as far as Sasha was concerned, was when Clive O'Malley, one of the current school tricksters, got a Slytherin prefect drunk and weaseled the password for one of the prefect bathrooms out of him. Over the next several days, a group of people, made up of O'Malley's friends and the people with the highest scores in each subject, was invited to a midnight party in said bathroom the week before finals. Jas and Sasha had been invited, Jas for Transfiguration and Sasha for Potions. Disillusioned, they had snuck to the bathroom, given the password, ("bubbles") and entered to find a party in full swing. They spent the next four hours swimming, socializing, and occasionally studying, until Moaning Myrtle ratted them out to Filch because a tipsy Hufflepuff suggested a soap that would work wonders on her skin. The entire gathering had dispelled and fled back to their common rooms. Only a few people were caught by the cantankerous caretaker, and they staunchly refused to give up names.

_Bless their Gryffindor hearts_, Sasha thought. Of course, it hadn't hurt that they had been quite drunk and probably couldn't have remembered everyone there if they wanted to.

All in all, it hadn't been a bad month, but Sasha was very happy that the Christmas break was starting.

On the first day, she woke to an empty dorm room; it was one of those years where the school was abandoned, and as far as she knew, she was the only Ravenclaw around. A glance out the window showed her the school grounds covered in a blanket of thick snow. Sasha smiled; she loved snow. Cracking her knuckles and neck, she swung her legs out of bed, wincing at the cold flagstones of the dorm, and got up. After going to the bathroom and yanking the tangles out of her hair, she returned to the dorm to get dressed. A pair of jeans, a light green long-sleeved shirt, and fuzzy sheepskin boots made up her outfit that day, and for warmth, she selected an oversized Beatles hooded jumper, smiling at the bright yellow submarine emblazoned on the front. It had long been a goal of hers to bring Muggle music to the wizarding world, one way or another; the only problem was figuring out how to play it for people when no electronics worked at Hogwarts. For now, she would simply explain to anyone who asked about her jumper.

Ambling along the corridors to the Great Hall, Sasha noticed that there was tinsel hanging off some of the paintings, and that many of the inhabitants were either celebrating the Yuletide or looking at the décor with expressions that radiated "Bah, humbug!" She was toasted by several parties, all of whom looked to be deep into a keg of some beverage or other. A wave and a cheerful, "Good morning to you, too!" usually contented them, though one group of nuns tried to get her to join in a carol with them. By the time Sasha reached the doors of the Great Hall, she was smiling and feeling full of holiday spirits, though Christmas was a week away.

"Good morning, Sasha."

She looked around to see Professor Lupin approaching from the opposite direction, wearing his usual shabby robes and looking cheerful, if tired.

"Good morning, sir," she replied, stopping in front of the doors to allow him to reach her. "Happy to be on holiday?"

"Yes, even though I'm spending the first few days grading final exams," he said with a wry smile that erased some of the lines on his face for a moment, making him look closer to his true age than he usually did.

"If it'll make your life easier, sir, just go ahead and give me an 'O' on mine," she suggested with a mock-helpful expression on her face. He chuckled and opened the door, ushering her in.

Sasha raised her eyebrows when she looked at the Great Hall. All the long House tables were pushed to the sides, and a large round one was set up in the center of the hall. In the chairs around it sat the people who were staying at Hogwarts, which was made up mostly of staff, and about five students, including Sasha. There were two empty chairs, one on the left side, between Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Sinistra, and another on the other side, between Snape and a very unhappy-looking Hufflepuff second year, who was leaning slightly away from the dark Potions teacher as though he might explode. If Sasha knew anything about that man, it was that he was probably enjoying this to the hilt. As she watched, he turned to the student and said something so softly that Sasha couldn't hear it, but it made the kid go pale. Slowly he reached out and grasped the sugar bowl and held it out to Snape, and Sasha could see his hand trembling; he flinched when the professor reached towards the bowl and took it from his hand, never taking his black eyes off the student's wide blue ones. Without a word he turned back to his breakfast, and so did not see the boy slump in his chair, looking like he had been stared at by a dragon that had decided not to eat him yet.

Sasha suppressed a smile at the professor's games, and decided to put the poor child out of his misery for a time. Nodding to Lupin, she set off around the table and slid into the empty seat next to Snape, who glanced at her before returning his gaze to his plate. He had been like that since the incident in the hallway with Decoste: never looking her in the eyes, saying even less to her than he had previously, and giving her tasks that seemed to require the minimum of instructions. In class, he had barely looked at any of her potions, but her essays had been critiqued and graded with even more brutality than before. It was as though she had done something to offend or upset him, but she had no idea what it could be. Still, she decided to try talking to him during the break, outside of the context of academia, and see what happened.

Before she could do that, coffee was required.

"Good morning, Professor," she said cordially, turning to him and looking up slightly with a small smile on her face. "Could I trouble you for the coffee?"

* * *

Severus had been having a reasonably enjoyable morning. Since all of his tests were practical and performed in-class, he had no tests to grade nor essays to review, and he had spent the past ten minutes terrorizing a young Hufflepuff who had the misfortune to sit near him. The look on the boy's face when he had asked for the sugar probably would have been the same had Severus asked for the boy's head on a platter.

Then he had glanced up and seen Sasha standing at the doors with the werewolf, and his good mood had vanished. Well, not entirely. He had discovered in recent weeks that he was often pleased to see the young woman, and that fact was more than enough to make him unhappy. There was no particular reason for him to be happy to see her, and so it was perplexing and irritating that he did. He had avoided contact with her as much as possible both in and out of class and took out his frustration on her essays; it was a somewhat indirect form of revenge, but satisfying nonetheless.

And after all that work to stay away from whatever three-foot wide aura of attractiveness that she exuded, she had the sheer nerve to sit next to him and ask for coffee.

Without so much as a glance in her direction, Severus reached one long arm across the table and seized the coffeepot. He perfunctorily thunked it down in front of her, and did not even grunt in response to her, "Thank you, sir." Swiftly, he inhaled the rest of his sausage and toast, stood, and swept out of the hall and back down to the dungeons. A few fronds of tinsel and mistletoe met a fiery end as he stormed down the corridors, and any painted characters who acted a little too jolly for his mood received snarled epithets.

Still irritated, Severus wrenched open the door to his quarters and slammed it shut behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply through flared nostrils as he surveyed his sitting room, letting his eyes wander freely.

It was not particularly large; he was not a man who required a lot of space to live in. A fireplace was set in the left wall, framed by a layer of green marble, with a matching hearth; matching armchairs and sofa, all in worn black leather, were placed in a semicircle around it, with two small wooden tables between them. The remainder of that wall, and the one opposite it, was bookshelves, except for the doors leading to his bedroom and private lab. Tomes of every subject filled those shelves, the result of twenty-five years of searching and collecting, not to mention a generous portion of Severus' income. No silly knickknacks cluttered those shelves – he abhorred the sort of stupid objects other people filled shelves with, and he wanted nothing in his way when he was searching for a particular book.

Heaving a sigh, Severus moved away from the door and across the floor to the door that led to his private labs. As he walked, he reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a folded piece of parchment, which he unfolded and reread for the tenth time, still wondering about what it said.

It was from none other than Messrs. F. and G. Weasley, Proprietors of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He had choked on his tea when he had seen those names. Once he stopped coughing and wiped his watering eyes, Severus read the letter.

The red-haired wastrels were apparently preparing their joke shop for the holiday season, and for reasons unknown, their previous Amortentia supplier had disappeared. Their insane minds had decided that Severus would be the ideal replacement, and they had written him to request that he make twenty gallons of the love potion. He had considered writing them an extremely nasty (and possibly explosive) letter in response until he saw how much they were paying per gallon. After some quick multiplication, he decided that four hundred galleons would be a very nice holiday bonus, and he had written them a civil letter telling them when the potion would be ready.

Now seemed like a good time to make it; brewing always soothed him. He slipped into his lab, forcibly shutting out the memory of _that girl_ sitting on _that stool_ while he worked to save her vision. Quickly, he unbuttoned his trademark billowing robes, and hung them on a hook. Under them, he wore a black undershirt and trousers; he preferred that outfit for brewing, since it eliminated the problem of his sleeves dragging in the potion. That done, he turned to a seemingly empty part of the wall, and said "_Maestrato."_

Immediately, a woman's soprano voice sounded, backed by an orchestra. Severus winced at the voice – it struck too close to his problem – and hastily intoned, "_Adonc."_ The music switched to classical, with no vocals of any kind, and a knot in his shoulders relaxed slightly. Calm now, he set to work.

Three hours later, he was hungry, tired, and confused. One of the scents emitting from the potion was the same as whatever Sasha wore, but its name continued to elude him. More mystifying than that was the fact that it was coming out of the potion at all, and though Severus knew very well what that meant, he was determined not to draw conclusions until he had thought about it for a while. To that effect, he seized a thick black jumper and his winter cloak and went out to watch snow melt.

There was a bench under an elm tree overlooking the lake that he preferred at times when he needed to think something over, and he made his way there. One black glare was all it took to convince two first years to take their snowball fight somewhere else, and soon Severus was alone with his thoughts. He sighed, the vista before him becoming momentarily clouded over by his breath freezing, but it soon cleared, revealing the lake and the distant snow-capped mountains. He stared out, not really seeing them as his mind whirled. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the warning crunch of snow under boots, and he started when he was addressed; when he recognized the low, throaty voice, he suppressed a groan.

"Hello, Professor. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

_Disturbing me, Sasha? Most definitely,_ Severus thought.

He forced himself not to look at her as he curtly replied, "Good afternoon, Miss Cupris." Hopefully, his chilly tone and refusal to meet her gaze would drive her away; they had that effect on most of the world.

So it was an enormous shock to Severus when he felt her slide onto the bench beside him. She left about a foot between them, but he could feel the warmth of her body, and out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed her face in profile, bordered by her golden hair. To his immense relief, she was wearing no perfume that day, so there was no scent to tease and tantalize his nostrils on top of everything else.

They sat for a time, neither one of them saying a word. Severus risked a look at her, turning his head slightly. Unfortunately, she picked the same moment to risk a glance at him, and he found himself staring into a world of green. She looked away first, and reached inside her cloak, fumbling for something. A small smile appeared on her face, and she pulled out a red, leathery-looking fruit, which she began to divest of its peel with practiced ease. Severus watched, interested despite himself, as she ripped out bits of the skin with her nails; the snow beside her was soon peppered with bits of it. As she worked, the inside of the fruit was revealed – a cornucopia of small red jewels, glistening like drops of blood. It was beautiful.

Sasha looked up and saw him watching her work. She smiled again, and said, "Pomegranate, sir." Short fingers carefully eased out several of the seeds, and they lay in her palm like rubies before she tossed them into her mouth. Her jaw worked briefly as she chewed, then swallowed. She paused again, regarding the fruit for a moment, then shook her head slightly, causing her hair to shimmer.

"I'm being rude," she stated, wryly. Her eyes met his again, and one eyebrow quirked up. "Would you like some, sir?"

It actually took Severus several seconds to process that _she_, a student, had just offered him fruit. Acts of generosity, especially from his pupils, were so rare that he wasn't quite sure how to respond to them. Fortunately, part of his brain was still functioning, and it forced his mouth into a blunt, "Thank you." Recovering from his shock, he reached out and took some of the seeds.

At least, he tried. They burst when he tried to pull them out, and his fingers were covered in sticky red juice. Scowling, he jerked his hand back, fumbling for his handkerchief before a thought struck him. He had acknowledged, at this point, his attraction to her. He might as well get some direct revenge on her for it. Abandoning his search through his pockets, he brought his sticky fingers to his lips and slowly, but daintily, licked them clean. The juice was tart, but sweet, and it smelled familiar; something he had smelled recently, very recently…

His head snapped around to stare at her, just in time to see her glance away form him, blushing. No doubt she had watched him clean his fingers with considerable interest, but he didn't care. He could name it now – _pomegranate._ Her perfume was pomegranate.


	12. Chapter 12: Forbidden Fruit

Chapter 12: Forbidden Fruit

Sasha smiled when Snape tried to yank the seeds out of the pomegranate like they were ticks; he looked so irritated when they burst. Her smile faded quickly when he sexily and oh-so-casually licked the juice off his fingers, twining his very long tongue around his fingers with amazing dexterity. That got her mind started on other uses (and places) he could possibly put his tongue to, and she hastily turned away to hide her heated glance, regarding instead the snow that was speckled with pomegranate peel. Briefly, she considered stuffing snow down her shirt to cool the warmth spreading rapidly through her body, but decided that it would look ridiculous.

Trusting herself not to do something really stupid, she looked back up at her professor, who was scowling at her like she had designed pomegranates for sole purpose of getting his fingers sticky. She felt that some sort of apology was necessary.

"There's a trick to it, sir. Here," she said, levering out several seeds with the ease of practice and presenting them to him in her open palm.

Snape regarded her for a long moment, his black eyes as unreadable as ever, but Sasha detected no hostility coming from the dark wizard. Just interest, and mild interest at that.

"Are you always so forward with your teachers during break, Miss Cupris?" he said tartly, even as two slender fingers reached out and plucked a few seeds from her hand. "Your sense of propriety seems to have disappeared with the end of the term."

Arching one of her eyebrows, Sasha decided to match him snark for snark. "Forward, sir? I was under the impression that it was polite to offer one's food to others. It would have been churlish not to, especially something as easily shared as a pomegranate."

Snape paused as he brought the seeds to his mouth, and his eyebrows snapped together so fast she swore she heard them click. "Watch your tongue. You would not want me to mistake an attempt at wit for something disrespectful," he said evenly. "I would be most… displeased."

Sasha barely suppressed a shiver at the silky way he voiced the threat. Various situations in which he "punished" her for his displeasure immediately rose in her mind and she looked back at her boots, trying not to squeeze her legs together in an obvious manner. Let it never be said that she didn't have an active imagination.

Covertly, she watched him bring the seeds to his lips and slip them into his mouth. There was a quiet crunching noise and then the faintest of swallows; thank Merlin he wasn't going to start spitting seeds all over the place. Her lips twitched as a thought occurred to her, and she voiced it.

* * *

"And thus was winter created."

Snape blinked, trying to place the non sequitur into some part of the situation. He had been enjoying the tart flavor of the red seeds, and suddenly she was talking about the creation of the seasons.

"Miss Cupris, are you in the middle of a conversation I am not aware of?" he asked sharply. "For if you are, I would most like to meet whomever it is you are speaking to."

A deep chuckle escaped her, and she shook her head. "No, sir. Just a thought I had concerning pomegranates and winter," she said, turning her head to regard him with a small smile curving her full lips. "The old Greek myth about Persephone and Hades."

"I am familiar with it," he replied. "Is there something more you would like to say about it?" he added, noticing that her eyes were narrowed in thought, and her lips pursed slightly as she stared through him. At his words, she refocused her gaze to his face.

She shrugged, making her hair ripple, and considered the clear winter sky for a long moment, seeming to take inspiration for her thoughts from the silence of the scene. "I have always wondered," she said thoughtfully, "if Persephone really wanted to go back to the surface. What if she was genuinely fond of Hades, even if no one else was, and eating the pomegranate was a way to remain in the dun-," She coughed suddenly, trying to glide over her slip of the tongue. "Underworld," she finished hastily, licking her lips nervously without looking at him.

Severus smirked and slid two inches closer to her, reducing the distance between them. "Yes?" he murmured silkily, staring down at her so intensely that every hair on her head was brought into sharp focus; the tensing of her muscles when he moved was painfully obvious to his keen eyes. "Do go on, Miss Cupris; this is a most fascinating hypothetical."

Sasha's shoulders rose and fell in time with the deep breaths she took, and it was a hard fight for him not to watch the identical movement of her chest, but his view of her body was suddenly obscured by a view of her face when she whipped her head up to regard him.

"As I was saying, Professor, Zeus may well have forced her to return to the world above, but she used the pomegranate as a reason to return for as long as possible each year. It certainly wasn't _her_ fault that her mother had separation anxiety."

"And what would you have done in that situation? Life with many who love you or life with the one person you love?"

Her eyebrows snapped together, and she gave Severus a penetrating look that made him extremely nervous; he found himself wishing that he hadn't asked her anything. Without taking her eyes from his, she reached out and grasped the pomegranate, brought it to her lips and bit into a huge clump of the seeds like a vampire latching onto a jugular. Drops of the red juice stained her lips, and the smallest trickle of it ran down her chin, but she licked it away as she chewed and swallowed, looking straight into him all the while, letting him sink into her eyes like they were emerald-hued tar pits.

He couldn't move, didn't want to move, as she set down the pomegranate and leaned towards him, bringing the curves of her body within an inch of the hard lines of his own. She was so warm and looked so invitingly soft; the look on her upturned face was equally inviting. One small hand was reaching out towards his cheek, and for some reason he found himself moving into her, matching his movements to hers, leaning down with every intention of meeting her lips, when suddenly-

"Severus! Where are you?"

Horace Slughorn's jolly voice pierced the air, sounding entirely too close for comfort and killing both of their libidos as effectively as a bucket of ice. Severus and Sasha jerked away from each other simultaneously, both breathing very hard and glancing around frantically for the source of the voice; Severus had the presence of mind to get to his feet for a better view.

"_There_ you are, Severus!" Slughorn came into view from behind a small rise (which, Severus noted with relief, he couldn't possibly have seen over), looking, as he always did, like a walrus with legs. He rolled up to Severus and stopped, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to get his breath back, while Sasha and Severus waited to see what he wanted.

"I was looking _everywhere_ for you, old chap. Ran into that nice fellow – what's-his-name – was the same year as you. Teaching Defense Against, I think. He told me you were out here. Ooh!," he puffed, straightening with a small groan, and placing his hands at the small of his back. "I'm too old to go traipsing over a winter wonderland to deliver invitations." As he looked around, he spotted Sasha, who was still sitting on the bench. His wide face broke into a smile of delight.

"Miss Cupris! How nice to see you again," he said jovially, giving her an enthusiastic wave which she returned weakly as she stood up. "I'm not surprised that you're socializing with this fine teacher – no doubt you have discovered that Miss Cupris is a very talented potion maker?" Slughorn asked, turning back to the "fine teacher" who was glowering at him.

"Professor Lupin knew where we were, sir?" she asked, cocking her head slightly in confusion. "How?"

_That damn map!_ Severus realized, scowling. _Potter must have given it back to him when he took the teaching position._

"Oh, he said he saw Severus heading this way earlier," he chortled, patting Sasha condescendingly on the head.

Severus bit back a snort of laughter as he watched the young woman stiffen with annoyance; her green eyes narrowed at her former teacher, who was completely unaware of the effect he was having on her, having turned back to Severus once again. A muscle under one of her eyes twitched slightly. The current Potions Master decided to take a bit of revenge on her for what she had just done to him.

"Indeed, she is most talented," he replied smoothly. "I have yet to see her fall _short_ of expectations." He watched with great amusement as the muscle under her eye twitched again at his jibe at her diminutive stature, and he smirked. "I fully expect her to raise my standards to new _heights._"

If looks were Killing Curses he would be dead on the ground, of that he was sure. Slughorn, of course, was completely oblivious to Severus' sniping at Sasha, and began to speak blithely.

"Severus, I came out here to tell you about the New Year's Eve party I'm throwing here. Minerva kindly allowed me to have it in the Great Hall. Lots of old staff and Ministry people will be there, and I can think of several who would _love_ to talk to you, my boy, so be sure to be there! And now that I think of it," he added suddenly, looking thoughtfully at Sasha, "why don't you come too, Miss Cupris? There are some very important people I would love to introduce you to, and I would hate for such a charming young lady to waste New Year's Eve sitting in her common room."

Severus could see Slughorn's train of thought chugging along as he considered Sasha. Attractive, talented, charming when she wasn't being a smartass Ravenclaw… She would be a perfect addition to Slughorn's roster of personal favorites for him to parade around. Comical though the man looked, with his jolly demeanor and huge mustache, Slughorn was a canny Slytherin through and through, and he looked out for Number One.

Sasha smiled at Slughorn, though it looked more like a grimace of resignation to Severus. He smirked; the girl had no way to get out of the party – Slughorn had probably noticed how empty the castle was, and she dared not insult him by refusing. He was a powerful man and had been known to make life difficult for those who slighted his invitations, unless they happened to be more powerful or dangerous than he was. Severus fell into that last category of people, but he had a feeling that Minerva would be vexed with him if he did not attend; life with a happy employer was always much better than life with an unhappy one, particularly if said employer was Minerva McGonagall.

"Of course I'll go," the girl was saying, sounding slightly too enthusiastic to be entirely convincing. "I wouldn't miss one of your parties, Prof- I mean, Mr. Slughorn."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Slughorn, clapping his hands together with satisfaction and looking like a cat that had just discovered a canary with clipped wings. "Well, I look forward to seeing you both there. And remember, it's dress robes or nothing!" With a last cheery smile and a wave, he set off across the snow-covered lawn in the direction of the castle, leaving Severus alone with Sasha in an increasingly awkward silence.

Severus didn't even look at her; he didn't trust himself not to give in to her want again. Instead he whirled around and set off in a slightly different direction to the one Slughorn had taken, snow crunching beneath his leather boots.

To his immense relief, she didn't follow.

So much for going to the bench to think things over clearly. It was all very clear now, but he would rather not have confirmed his suspicions in that rather heated manner.

Now all he had to do was avoid her until New Year's Eve. Then… well, she wouldn't do anything at the party in front of a roomful of teachers. He would probably be safe from any advances, on her part or his.

He hoped.


	13. Chapter 13: Ghosts of Christmas Presents

Chapter 13: Ghosts of Christmas Presents

_Damn Slughorn!_

Sasha stared at Snape's retreating back, forcing herself not to chase after him like a lovesick puppy as he strode across the snow; there was no chance that throwing herself at him now would rekindle what had happened five minutes earlier.

_That Slughorn came along and ruined!_ she thought furiously, cursing the former Potions professor with every rude word she knew. Snape had reacted to her, had almost kissed her, and then it had ended abruptly. And although remaining in Slughorn's presence for more than thirty seconds was usually enough to make a person forget they had sexual interests, she felt herself heating up at the mere memory of the near-kiss.

The near-kiss that Snape had willingly leaned into, had practically started with his question about what choice she would have made, and had left without mentioning.

The near-kiss that had given him away, confirmed her growing suspicions about him that were begun during breakfast, meditated over during the morning, and tested five minutes ago.

It had first occurred to her when he left the breakfast table so abruptly that he was acting exactly like any boy who liked a girl and was confused about it. Her first instinct had been to dismiss the idea as preposterous, but several similar thoughts arose from her mind - the way he had stared into her eyes after the incident with Decoste, or how he had breathed a little harder when within range of her perfume – and suddenly it didn't seem so ridiculous. It seemed incredibly obvious.

Now it was a definite fact, and all that remained was the question of what to do next. Should she try to ambush him and kiss a verbal confession out of him?

_Sure, if I want to be hexed into next week._

Or wait for him to make a move?

_Right. And Trelawney will predict happy futures for people, too. _

Sasha sighed and shook her head slightly. In a burst of irritation at herself and her taciturn professor, she scooped up a handful of snow, formed a snowball, and hurled it as far over the lake as she could. It burst when it hit the water, creating the illusion of a splash whose droplets defied gravity. Still irritated, she turned and tramped off across the snow covered lawns to the castle; what she needed now was a fire, a Muggle novel, and a cup of hot chocolate with a foot of whipped cream on top.

She spent the week until Christmas with those three things, occasionally venturing out of Ravenclaw Tower to walk across the grounds; unfortunately, the snow melted halfway through and turned the lawns into the World's Largest Mud Puddle, which meant she had to Scourgify her boots before she went inside after her walks. She gave Professor Lupin a hand one day with catching a few hinkypunks in the lake, an activity that left both of them half-drowned and scratched all over, but laughing and pleased with their work. It was a pleasant week, but Christmas couldn't come fast enough.

A very unmerry clap of thunder woke Sasha on Christmas morning; she lay in bed for a minute with adrenaline shooting through her body before she figured out that it was storming, and it was December twenty-fifth. Energized by the latter, she rolled out of bed, squealing when her feet hit the icy floor. Her slippers were nowhere to be found, which was unsurprising since, in the absence of her tidier roommates, she had been living by her father's maxim, "The floor is the biggest shelf in your house." The room looked like it had been hit by a cyclone that brought half of Kansas with it.

But her wand was always in the same place on her dresser, and with "_Accio slippers!_" her feet were soon warm; that done, Sasha wrapped a thick comforter around her shoulders and sat down to open her presents.

A large, heavy rectangle from Jas encased inside Puzzle Paper – the recipient had to solve the puzzle in order to receive the gift – turned out to be _Inside the Broom Closet: Homosexuality in the Wizarding World_, which Sasha had been eyeing in the bookshop for months. She made a mental note to write her dad and stepfather and take it off her list of birthday presents.

To Sasha's immense surprise, there was a package from her mother, albeit a small one. She regarded the green-wrapped square with something bordering on suspicion for a long moment before she untied the ribbon and pulled off the paper to reveal a small jewelry box and a smaller note. Slowly, she opened the note and read it.

_Dear Sasha,_

_I know this is your last year at school, and I thought I should get you something. I think we both know that we'll never be close, and if you hate me, I understand. I'm not stupid enough to think that a material gift will smooth over twelve years of silence, but I want you to know that my thinking has changed since then, and if you want to talk, then I would love to do so. _

_Love,_

_Perdita_

At least she'd known better than to sign it, "Mum." Sasha held the letter in her hand and looked at it for a very long time before she set it down and picked up the small box, which was navy cardboard with no distinguishing marks. One of the pieces of scotch tape holding the sides down had come off, so she lifted the lid from that side, using the opposite piece as a makeshift hinge.

Inside, resting upon a bed of thick gauze, was a pair of chandelier earrings. They were gold with tiny rubies set into the head and dangling from the end of each thin gold chain.

_Earrings?_ Sasha thought, staring at them as though she expected them to do something to quell the hurt rising in her. _Bloody earrings?_ After twelve years of cold silence and implied hatred, earrings seemed a lame attempt at reconciliation. The disappointment lodged in her throat as a huge lump that could not be swallowed, but she savagely dashed away the tears that came to her eyes. She was damned if this- this- _woman_ was going to make her cry on Christmas! The box hit the floor with a small thud as she dropped it, the chains tinkling against the stone floor as the earrings tumbled out, but she ignored them.

Determined to move on to happier things, Sasha grabbed the square package that was from her dad and Tristan and took her anger out on the wrapping paper. A card on top of another box met her eyes, but this one contained no apologies, only a "Happy Christmas and we love you!" from the two men. A wizard picture of them was inside; Tristan towering over her father as they stood in front of their London house, both of them waving happily while snow fell and coated their matching jumpers. A smile tugged at her lips, and she placed the card reverently on her dresser before opening the box.

"Wow, Tristan!" she gasped, as she carefully drew out the contents of the box and held it up to herself. Further exploration of the box revealed matching shoes.

She knew what she was wearing to the New Year's party.

Snape didn't have a chance.

* * *

Although he felt it more than he heard it, Severus was woken by a rumble of thunder; the sound vibrations made the stones of his dungeon reverberate strongly. Had he been a man given to personifying buildings, he would have said it felt like the castle was shivering.

Either way, it was enough to wake him up from a dream that involved green eyes and blonde hair, a dream which was steadily replacing those of green eyes and red hair. Severus supposed it was easier to love the memory of someone dead for nearly twenty years when there wasn't a very amenable replacement around. Until now, that situation simply had not occurred, since no woman had ever seemed to measure up to Lily in any fashion.

_For a well-behaved student_, he thought, levering himself onto his elbows, _Sasha creates an enormous amount of trouble for me._ With a groan, he rolled out of bed and stood up, working a kink out of one shoulder as he did so, feeling his lank black hair begin to fall back into its usual curtains around his face.

Severus paused. Something was… different. Uncomfortably so. A certain tightness and throbbing in his nether regions that he was familiar with, but had not felt this strongly for some time. One quick glance downward, and he was face to face with the culprit.

Cursing, he added _forcing me to take a cold shower_ to the list of crimes he was currently attributing to the young woman, and headed for the bathroom. Ten seconds under an icy cold blast of water solved his problem for the time being, and Severus sighed as he changed the water back to hot and reached for the shampoo. Contrary to popular belief, he _did_ wash his hair; he always snorted at those who claimed he didn't simply because his hair was oily. They didn't seem to realize that, if he were lax in that area of personal hygiene, their noses probably would have told them rather than only their eyes.

Upon exiting the bathroom, Severus noticed a small package sitting adjacent to the _Mimbulus Mimbeltonia_ he had been nursing along for the past month. Apparently, the house elves who delivered presents had decided that it was as close to a tree as they were going to find in his room, and had deposited his lone gift there.

Severus regarded it for a very long moment. It was a large rectangle, about three inches high, wrapped in matte silver paper with no ribbon or bow, just an envelope placed on top. Upon further inspection, the envelope was sealed with the Malfoy family crest – two snakes twined into a crown, holding a gem in their large fangs – and bore his name.

_Malfoy?_ he wondered, sliding two long fingers under the seal to break it. _The only one of them in a position to send gifts is Draco. _

Severus was rarely wrong, and this was no exception. The letter read:

_Dear Severus,_

_I won't wish you Happy Christmas, since you'd probably incinerate my gift and waste the time and money I spent on it. Do me a favor and wear it to the party you're attending, regardless of whether you're there under duress. _

_With regards, your godson_

_Draco Malfoy_

Severus lifted an eyebrow at the letter. He had no idea what Draco could send him that he knew would be useful at some point in the near future, and he was intrigued. Either the boy sent him something genuinely useful, or he made a fool of himself.

With a flick of his wand, he removed the paper from the box, since he had long ago decided that tearing paper off gifts was the most childish action possible for a man, next to sucking one's thumb. The box was of black cardboard, with _Newton Magus_ stamped across the center is silver calligraphy.

The eyebrow rose another fraction of an inch – Newton Magus was a very expensive wizard clothing store that did a lot of custom work for very rich patrons like the Malfoys. Carefully, he lifted the lid off the box and separated the sheets of black velvet which met his eyes. It actually took him a moment to distinguish the gift from the velvet, since the shades were identical, but he soon had the whole thing removed. Severus held it up at arm's length, eyeing it critically.

_Well_, he decided, after a minute of careful examination, _I must concede that Draco has taste. But how did he know that I'm attending Slughorn's party? _


	14. Chapter 14: Party Foul

**AN: Hi, everyone! Hope you all had happy holidays. Sasha and Severus...well, maybe they will. Just a quick warning that there is a bit of non-consensual touching/attentions in this chapter and the next. **

Chapter 14: Party Foul

Christmas Day passed uneventfully. Sasha pulled a cracker with Lupin that released a ghastly witch's hat with a stuffed vulture on top, which for some reason made all the teachers but Snape snort into their breakfasts. She spent the rest of the day in a Charming contest with a Slytherin fifth-year who'd stayed behind; it degenerated into the Battle of Flying Furniture, which they had to repair afterwards.

It passed quickly, as did the days after it, and soon it was six o'clock on the night of December 31st, and Sasha was getting ready for the party. One of the benefits of everyone being gone was that she had the Ravenclaw bathroom all to herself, and so she was free to sing opera while in the shower, an action which normally elicited groans and towel snaps from the other girls. She smiled, enjoying the way "Nel Cor Piu Non Mi Sento" echoed off the blue-tiled walls, making each note seem purer and richer.

After exiting the bathroom, she cast a Slow-Action, No-Frizz Drying Spell on her waist-length hair and settled herself in front of a mirror to do her makeup.

_To match or not to match?_ Sasha pondered, considering the palette of eye shadow colors for a minute, before she decided that matching one's makeup to one's dress simply wasn't _her._ Selecting a complementary color instead, she set to work. A short while later, she was satisfied with her face, and so she turned to her hair.

There was just so much of it. She had to be careful with updos, since the sheer volume of her hair made them look really big, but leaving it down wouldn't do for this party. After experimenting with a few styles, she constructed something she liked, impaled it with her wand (charmed to look like a simple hairstick) and declared herself done.

Deftly, she slipped into her dress and shoes, put on earrings and a necklace, grabbed her cloak, and headed down the winding stairs of Ravenclaw Tower to the Great Hall.

* * *

"Care for a drink, Severus?"

The wizard in question looked down his hooked nose at Slughorn, who was proffering a goblet of what looked like Rosmerta's best mead. Wordlessly, Severus took it and returned to his previous activity of observing the party.

There were probably about seventy wizards and witches in the Great Hall, and they were still trickling in every few minutes. Severus had counted no less than seven heads of bright red hair, which accounted for most of the Weasleys; the head with the long red hair was staying very close to a head of messy black hair that Severus was making a point of avoiding. No bushy brown hair in sight, which made him smirk; apparently the tumultuous relationship between Granger and the youngest Weasley boy was in a recession. Bright pink hair right next to golden brown, both of which were leaning towards grizzled brown – Lupin and Tonks had latched onto each other very quickly – but he was surprised that Moody had shown up; the Auror hated parties almost as much as Severus did, saying that it was too easy for someone to attack him or poison his drink. He could just make out a shiny brown pate leaning over one of the shorter reds – Kingsley Shacklebolt and Charlie Weasley seemed to have started the New Years kissing a few hours early.

As of yet, no golden blond.

Not that he was looking, or anything.

Severus suppressed a sigh and occupied himself with studying the decorations. Flitwick had outdone himself; there wasn't a single surface or corner that didn't have something colorful, sparkling, or both attached to it. The torches were burning merrily in sconces decked with flame-proofed holly, and he thought he saw a few bunches of mistletoe among them. Knowing Flitwick, it was probably charmed so unless whatever poor sods were under it kissed, they would not be able to leave. The only damper on the décor was the enchanted ceiling, which was – quite literally – raining on the party. It was absolutely bucketing down rain.

Resisting the urge to blast every sparkling light into nonexistence, Severus began to make his way over to a fairly secluded corner. Mysteriously, the crowd parted before him to let him through.

He was halfway there when a hand seized his arm, and a familiar drawl greeted him warmly.

"Severus! I was hoping you'd be here."

Severus looked down a few inches into the pale eyes of his godson, Draco Malfoy, who was, if not smiling, then smirking in a convivial manner.

"Good evening, Draco," he replied coolly. "Your presence explains much about your present. Had I known you would be here to gloat, I would not have worn it."

The young man grinned as he inspected Severus. "Gloat, Godfather? Me?" he said, with as much innocence as any Malfoy could muster. "Never." He himself was wearing navy blue dress robes, which were very fitted in the torso and left his perfectly muscled forearms bare. His white blond hair was short and looked so perfectly mussed that Severus knew it had taken an hour to style.

Severus snorted. "How did you find out I was going to be here?" he asked. "Does Slughorn send out complete guest lists in exchange for a box of that disgusting candied pineapple?"

"As a matter of fact, no. It takes two boxes and a promise to consider the bill one of his protégées is trying to get passed." Since leaving Hogwarts, Draco had become involved in the Ministry, and Severus had no doubt that the young man's natural talents for manipulation and subterfuge were serving him well.

"Anyway, it's beginning to look like you're the only person here I would be remotely interested in talking to," he continued, raking a long, pale hand through his hair and looking around disdainfully. "I heard Slughorn gets a lot of pretty witches at his parties, but it looks like that's a rumor."

"What, don't you want to go reminisce with your old schoolmates, Draco? Potter and Weasley have probably missed you dreadfully."

"No, thank you," Draco replied evenly, looking about the room. "Ah, there's the food. Come on, Severus, if anyone's going to serve good food, it's Slughorn." Severus followed his godson over to a long table against one wall, upon which was heaped one of the most impressive spreads of victuals that Severus had seen, Hogwarts feasts included. Huge meat pies sat shoulder to shoulder with intricate salads, while chocolate cake vied for space with mango sherbet. He saw stews, curries, kebabs, wraps, dumplings, and steaks; his sensitive nose picked up scents even he was not familiar with, and it made his mouth water. All of it was neatly arranged, with carved fruit and ice sculptures placed among the dishes as a garnish.

"It'll do," said Draco, inspecting something that oozed melted cheese and tomato sauce from between layers of vegetables and pasta. "Though he really should have got some house-elves to serve. Or a few of the Weasleys," he added with a sneer. He grabbed a white porcelain plate and a fork and proceeded along the table, spooning out samples of everything. Severus was more selective with his choices, though he had to exert strict self-control not to sample all the desserts; his sweet tooth was something he would prefer to keep to himself. He settled for a piece of dark chocolate torte once he Vanished the frosting off the top to make it look slightly less self-indulgent.

A plate of raspberries caught his eye, and he was considering whether to add a few to his plate when Draco exclaimed, "Well, the guest list just got slightly more satisfying."

Severus followed the young man's interested gaze to the door, where none other than Sasha Cupris was handing her cloak to the enchanted coat rack on which they were all hung, and promptly forgot about the raspberries.

The dress was green, but a very interesting sort of green; not bright Slytherin green, nor a pastel shade, but an autumnal color – yellow and orange threads had been woven into the luminous green cloth, giving the dress an iridescent look. The warm tones of the dress worked well with her golden hair; locks of it tumbled out of a twist to brush the nape of her neck. A corset-style bodice, laced with a dark green cord, hugged her curves beautifully and showed just enough of her full breasts to entice, but not so much that it looked like there might be an accident if she breathed too deeply. The full skirt fell just below her knees, showing strong calves and a pair of high-heeled shoes in a blue suede that gave her at least three inches. Purple eyeshadow set off her eyes, and her lips were slightly pinker than usual.

Severus did not think she looked beautiful. There was too much artifice in the make-up and the hair for her to look truly beautiful; Severus had never understood why witches wore gobs of paint on their faces, especially if they were attractive to start with. And hair like hers should be allowed to tumble to her waist, free of constraints, (unless, of course, she was brewing, in which case he'd yell at her to tie it back before it contaminated something). He decided that she looked very attractive, and a glance at Draco showed that the younger man had decided that as well. The blonde wizard had a look on his face that Severus had seen many times before – when Draco was looking at a new broomstick or a rare magical object. It was a look that said _I want that_.

What made Severus nervous was that Draco Malfoy was used to getting what he wanted.

* * *

Sasha's eyes found Snape bare moments after she entered the Great Hall; he was standing by the buffet and scowling at a young blonde wizard who was blatantly checking her out. It was rather fortunate that Snape's gaze was on the wizard, for that meant he didn't notice _her_ checking _him_ out.

The Potions Master was wearing black robes, but they were a considerable departure from the billowing, unadorned ones he usually wore. These were cut to flatter his lean physique without making him look rail-thin. The collar was not so high as to make him look like a vicar, but high enough to give him a definite look of dignity; it was open slightly at the front, providing a glimpse of the hollow at the base of his throat. His sinewy arms were covered in sleeves that were also cut to fit, not to billow, and the cuffs were straight off an Edwardian coat – three inches of black-on-black embroidery that folded back from the end of the sleeve with jet buttons. She spotted identical embroidery on the slim pockets over each hip, and on the collar and hem. The robes stopped just below his knees and were open from the waist down, revealing black trousers and polished, knee-high boots. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, secured with a silver clasp. With his pale skin, Snape looked like a statue, carved of marble and onyx.

Of course, statues generally didn't send warmth shooting from her stomach to her thighs, nor did they make her knees go wobbly. He did both.

_Get a grip!_ Sasha ordered herself, furiously. _The last thing he wants is some display of unbridled puppy love._ Taking a deep breath, she made her way over to the table where he stood, sparing a glance for the food and a glance for the blonde wizard, who was dressed so trendily that she wondered if he'd got a Seer to predict this season's fashions for him, and she guessed he took more time with his hair than she did. He had "lady's man" written all over him.

Unfortunately, he was between her and Snape, and he looked like he had every intention of-

"Hel_lo_," he said smoothly, approaching her and extending a hand, which bore a sliver ring on one finger. "We haven't met outside my dreams. I'm Draco Malfoy."

If he had been hoping to charm her, cheesy pick-up lines were not the way to go. "I'm Sasha. Sasha Cupris," she replied politely, taking his hand. Without missing a beat, he raised it to his mouth and brushed the back of her hand with his lips.

"Enchante," Draco said, releasing her hand while managing to linger over the action. "Allow me to introduce you to my godfather, Severus-,"

"Miss Cupris and I are acquainted, Draco," Snape interjected, "as she has class with me thrice a week. She has something of an interest in Potions."

"Really? I thought you would be more of a Charms person, myself. You must be very clever, if you're good at Potions. Is that true, Severus?" he drawled, turning to the older man.

Snape scowled. "She has yet to melt a cauldron," he said, rather grudgingly it seemed.

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir," she said dryly, as she leaned over the table to inspect a shank of lamb that proved to be overcooked. Snape cleared his throat slightly, and Sasha remembered that her dress was a bit low cut; leaning forward probably provided a very generous view of her cleavage. She smirked to herself and studied the lamb for a bit longer than was necessary before straightening up.

"It was a fact, Miss Cupris; nothing more."

"Oh, really? And here I was beginning to think that you liked me, Professor." She was looking him full in the eyes now, her chin raised slightly in a clear challenge to the older man, knowing that he would pick up on the allusion. Draco, sensing a battle in the making, quietly slipped away.

His black eyes narrowed. "You should not make too much of simple comments or actions, especially when dealing with Slytherins. Every gesture, no matter how sincere it seems, may simply be done to see how you will react."

"And if said actions occur in response to an experimental action of my own? Then am I free to draw conclusions from them, sir?" As she said this, she stepped around the edge of the table, stopping a few feet in front of Snape and planting herself there with her arms crossed. "Even if there are unforeseen problems; oh, let's say, an interruption by a third party that prevents the completion of the action."

"I would say that you do not understand what you are attempting in your little _experiment_," he hissed.

"But I understand perfectly what I'm doing, Professor, and you already proved my hypothesis to be correct when you-,"

"_Muffliato!"_ he snarled suddenly, producing his wand and flicking it slightly. Whatever he had done seemed to give him free reign with his speech, for he continued, "If you are alluding to what occurred on the bench by the lake, Miss Cupris, then I assure you that my actions have nothing whatsoever to do with _feelings_ or any such nonsense. You are my _student_."

"That is simply a _fact_, Professor, which you are using in place of what is actually true. I know you fancy me, and I know you know I fancy you, so what is the point of all this waffling about?" She moved closer, hope soaring in her chest as he did not back up, but simply stared down at her.

"Why can't we?" she murmured, looking up at him.

"_Why?_" he snarled, anger suddenly appearing on his face. "Because, Miss Cupris, despite what you may think, I have no desire for you whatsoever. I do not require some _fling_ with a _child_ to make me happy, and your belief that I wanted someone young to sleep with is laughable-"

"_Liar!"_ she hissed. "You're just twisting my words to make excuses. You're _afraid,_" she continued, now backing up slowly. " You almost kissed me that day, and that scares you. You don't understand why you want me or why I want you, and that scares you. But it doesn't scare me, Professor Snape. I'm old enough to know what I want and not to run from it."

With that, she whirled and strode out of the Great Hall, looking for refuge from those black eyes, hoping that he would come to his senses and stop running from her.

Sasha shivered slightly as the cold air of the entrance hall brushed her skin; it felt wonderfully refreshing, and she drew in a deep breath, feeling her head clear slightly. _I know he wants me. He knows it, too. He's so scared of wanting someone, of not being in control of his feelings… I wonder if he had a bad experience or something…_

"Didn't care for the party?" drawled a voice from behind her. She spun to see Draco Malfoy exiting the Great Hall; he shut the huge doors firmly behind him before strutting towards her.

"Just wanted to get some air," she replied, watching him. He was swaying a little bit, and she wondered if he'd found something stronger than mead to drink. There was a little bit of heat in his unfocused eyes, and the uncomfortable thought occurred to her that he might be one of those men who got horny when he was drunk. The argument with Snape slipped her mind as she eyed Draco, trying to figure out just how drunk he was.

"It's a pity, really, you being pretty. Normally I'd ask you out, but… well, I can't do that, can I?" The young man advanced on her, and Sasha realized that he had backed her away from the doors and towards a wall. She felt the smallest flutter of fear, but she decided that, horny though he might be, he was tipsy enough that there was no way he'd get either of his wands out before she hexed the hell out of him.

"No, because Slughorn mentioned that you're a Mudblood -, whoops, I meant Muggle-born, and everyone knows that Mugg – what the hell, I'm a Malfoy - _Mudblood_ girls are only good for one thing, so I guess I'll just have to settle for that."

Sasha was prepared for him to hex her. She was not prepared for the backhand blow across her face that sent her stumbling into the wall with her right eye closed in agony. Her head met the stone with a_crack_ that made her see stars in both eyes for a few moments and left her half paralyzed for a couple of seconds. In those seconds, her wrists were seized in one long hand and yanked so far above her head that she was standing on tiptoe; two lips crushed against hers with enough force to bruise as Draco's free hand ripped her hair from its twist, sending her wand clattering to the ground. Sharp stings shot through her scalp as a few hairs went with it, but that was the least of her worries as his hand made its way down to her bodice; the lacing was pulled painfully tight for a moment before she heard and felt it snap.

It was impossible for her to fight. With her weight not on her feet, she could not kick, and his big hand easily encompassed her wrists. Draco was pressing the full mass of his body against her, preventing her from moving too much, and his mouth crushing hers made it impossible for her to scream; since he had not stuck his tongue into her mouth, she couldn't bite it. As he began to grope her breasts, she hoped anyone would decide, for whatever reason, to go into the entrance hall.


	15. Chapter 15: Precipitations

Chapter 15: Precipitations

_Damn her! Damn her and her idiotic notions about me and feelings and everything else!_

Severus was seething silently as he stared into his goblet, a murky reflection of his scowling face looking back at him.

The annoying thing was she was right. He was afraid of feeling for someone, especially someone as young and innocent as she was. The last innocent woman he had loved – hell, the only woman he had ever even felt anything for until now – had ripped his heart apart and then been killed because of him.

And now _this_ woman was telling him exactly what he felt, all the while looking incredibly alluring in that green dress; the combination was absolutely devastating, since the blood he needed in his brain in order to argue kept trying to go elsewhere. He tried to push her away with insults and anger, but she was too damn_ smart_ for his usual intimidation tactics to work on her.

Still angry, he looked for someone upon whom he could vent his spleen. Where was Potter when you actually had a use for him? He scanned the room, but as his eyes found the heads of hair that would provide perfect targets for insults, he noticed the absence of a head of white-blonde hair.

_Where's Draco?_ he wondered. Unbidden, the memory of how his godson had been looking at Sasha came to mind, and Severus started feeling a little uneasy. He remembered watching Sasha head out the doors into the entrance hall, but once they shut, he had turned away, unwilling to gaze after her like some lovesick teenager. Anyone could have come and gone through the doors in the few minutes since she had stormed out.

Severus had not survived seventeen years as a spy without learning to trust his instincts, and right now they were telling him to go inspect the entrance hall. Turning on his heel, he began to make his way through the crowd to the doors, ignoring the occasional words of protest when he pushed someone out of the way.

One hand was on the door handle when someone caught his arm, and he turned to see Slughorn beaming at him.

"Leaving us so soon, Severus? It's nowhere near midnight yet!" exclaimed the portly man, affecting a look of sorrow at the other man's parting.

"I despise parties," Severus snarled, yanking his arm out of Horace's hand and jerking the door open. He slipped outside, leaving the host to stare after him in surprise, before he shrugged and turned back to his more amiable guests.

Severus softly closed the door behind him. It was cooler in the entrance hall, but he was not interested in relief from the warmth of the party. He started to look down the left side of the corridor, away from the main doors, but a sound from the other direction stopped him cold.

It was a quiet moan, underscored by soft scuffling noises.

Severus spun around, his eyes finding the place where the noise had come from – the opposite wall, about twenty feet down. He almost stopped breathing at what he saw, and his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles cracked.

Draco Malfoy was leaning over Sasha, pressing her against the wall, and kissing her enthusiastically. One hand held her arms over her head while the other one fondled her breasts underneath the fabric of her bodice. As Severus watched, horrified, that hand moved down to her thigh, and slowly began to slide up her skirt.

_"Why can't we?" she says, all innocent and loving and then she goes and decides that Draco is a preferable option,_ Severus thought angrily. _Well, I'll just leave her to that then. _

He began to turn away, moving silently, when he paused. This wasn't right. Something had been very, very wrong about that picture, besides that fact that it was Draco kissing Sasha. With a frown, Severus glanced back at the two young people.

A pair of wide, terrified green eyes met his. One of them had been blackened since he last saw it. His stomach clenched.

Before he even thought about what he was doing, Severus had his wand in his hand and bellowed, "DRACO MALFOY!"

The blonde man practically levitated when he heard his godfather shout his name. Sasha half-fell when Draco dropped her hands and stepped away from her, and Severus saw with another burst of rage that her bodice had been ripped open, exposing a black bra and a good portion of her breasts.

"Oh… Hello, Severus. Sasha and I were just-,"

But whatever excuses Draco was going to try to get past Severus ended with a _thud _and a gasp of agony. Sasha had recovered remarkably quickly, and had used Draco's moment of distraction to grab his shoulders and slam her knee into his groin. Severus almost laughed at the look of shock and pain on his godson's face, but he was only given a short view of it, for with a hard _crack _the young woman's right fist met Draco's elegant jaw in a nicely executed right uppercut. He fell to the ground, senseless, and only then did Severus take in the twisted look of rage on Sasha's face – her teeth were bared in a snarl and the eye that was not swelling rapidly was blazing with hatred. As the young man hit the floor, Severus saw her lift one foot, clearly intending to kick him in the side.

Severus realized that she could do very serious damage to Draco if he let her; tempting though it was, he couldn't just watch her maim his godson.

Besides, he had every intention of doing that himself.

"Miss Cupris," he said gently, hoping to distract her from her anger. She hesitated, but the foot stayed poised to kick.

"_Sasha_," he said, a little more forcefully, reveling in how her name rolled off his tongue. "_No_, Sasha."

Silence and stillness prevailed for a long moment. He watched her with bated breath as she stared at Draco, still looking completely under the influence of her anger.

Slowly, she lowered her leg; the heel of her shoe came to rest on the floor for a moment; then, without so much as a glance in his direction, she covered the distance to the main entrance in a few strides, pulled one of the doors open, and fled into the night.

"Severus, what on earth…?" Lupin had appeared behind him, moving quietly as he was wont to do. The torchlight illuminated his tired face, showing a look of concern mixed with confusion.

"What has occurred is none of your concern, Lupin," Severus replied coldly. "Suffice it to say that my godson will not be joining us for the new year."

He considered said godson for a long moment, wondering how to get rid of him. A thought occurred to him, and he smirked. This would get rid of Draco very nicely. Raising his wand, he placed the tip of it against the wall, and intoned, "_Venu Dobby."_

There was a pop a few seconds later, and Dobby the house-elf was standing in front of him. "What can Dobby do, Professor Snape, sir?" The little creature caught sight of Draco, and his enormous eyes widened at he sight of his old master lying on the ground.

"Take Draco to Malfoy Manor and leave him in the garden. There is no need to be gentle."

"Yes, sir, Professor Snape sir." The elf bowed, grabbed Draco's ear and vanished with another pop, taking the man with him.

One thing down. Now, to find a girl who did not want to be found, in a rainstorm that left visibility at a few feet, and on expansive lawns with many places to hide, including a very dangerous forest.

"Severus?"

Lupin spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. He started to snarl at Lupin to sod off when he stopped; another idea occurred to him. "Get your map, Lupin," he ordered. "I require it."

"Map? What map?" said Lupin, entirely too innocently, but Severus saw him shift uncomfortably.

"The map that shows where every single person in this castle is, Lupin! I know you have it here!" he snarled, rounding on the other man. "I need it to find that idiot girl before she breaks her leg or falls into the lake."

With a sigh, Lupin reached inside his robes and produced the map. As he opened it, he said, "I can go find her, Severus; it's no trouble."

"No. I need to speak with her. Where is she?"

"By the elm tree, next to the lake."

_Of course._ Without a word to Lupin, Severus spun on his heel and headed towards the door. On the way, he spotted her wand on the floor, and he scooped it up without breaking stride. He cast a quick Umbrella Charm upon himself right before he pulled open the door and stepped outside.

It was pitch black and the rain was coming down in torrents. No lightning, no thunder, no wind, just ridiculous amounts of rain. Severus lit his wand, adjusting the beam to cover the maximum amount of space, and headed out onto the very muddy lawns, hoping that the frustrating woman would be amenable to his wishes and hold still.

It was half an hour before the light from his wand glinted off of sodden blonde hair and a soaking green dress. She was standing in front of the bench, her shoes dangling from one hand as she stared into the rain. It was remarkable, Severus thought as he drew abreast of her, that a young woman could look beautiful with tangled, dripping hair, makeup running down her bruised face, and a ripped dress that clung to her in wet folds when she simply looked attractive when perfectly coiffed.

* * *

"If you are trying to drown yourself, Miss Cupris, the lake would be more expedient." 

She didn't feel like talking to Snape at that moment. The rain was cooling her rage, soothing her wounds, and speaking might ruin that. She could feel that swelling in her injured eye decreasing as the rain cooled it.

"If you want pneumonia, then remain where you are." When she still didn't respond, he continued, "However, if you would like to discuss the events of this evening, come with me, Miss Cupris."

Sasha looked up to find him looking at her. With a flash of irritation she realized that he was perfectly dry. Somehow that reminded her of the fact that she was wet and cold, and she suddenly shivered violently.

He smirked. "As I said, you are begging for pneumonia if you remain. Come." With that, Snape turned and began to walk away.

She hesitated, and then followed, her feet squelching in the mud of the lawns as she tried to keep up with Snape's long strides. High heels were not good for running across muddy lawns, and so she had removed them earlier; as a result, she couldn't feel her toes.

The walk back to the castle seemed to take forever. Her teeth were chattering together, and most of her extremities were numb by the time she padded into the entrance hall behind Snape. It was warmer inside, but the cold she felt was bone-deep, and she kept shivering.

"Miss Cupris, do you wish to go to the hospital wing?" he asked.

Sasha considered it. "No."

His lips twitched. "Come with me. And here-Then come with me. A moment-," He flicked his wand and conjured up a thick blanket, which settled itself around her shoulders. Another flick of his wand and she was clean and dry, though she still felt very cold.

For a moment she considered putting her shoes back on, but when Snape started off again at his usual rapid pace, she abandoned the idea and hurried after him.

They ended in front of a door in the dungeons. It was close to the Potions classroom, but down a small side corridor that she had never noticed before – in fact, she could have sworn that it didn't exist.

Snape opened it, stepped through, and beckoned her to follow him. She entered, curious despite her current unhappiness, to discover herself in what must be his quarters. Bookshelves lined three walls, with a fireplace taking up the fourth; it roared to life when Snape flicked his wand at it. A couch and two armchairs were set around it, all in black suede.

"Sit," he commanded. Sasha sank onto the couch; her knees were trembling from cold and shock, and without thinking she drew her legs up to her chest and leaned into the back of the couch, trying to seek some comfort in the soft material.

"Drink this."

She looked up to see Snape standing next to her, proffering a steaming mug. Wordlessly she took it and peered inside, expecting to find some elaborate and nasty-tasting concoction.

It turned out to be hot chocolate. She looked at Snape, who was settling himself onto the armchair opposite her. He met her puzzled gaze, and said, "It i's hot chocolate, Miss Cupris. Do you know why I'm giving it to you?" She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"Chocolate counteracts the effects of cold and – ah – emotional shock. It is often given to people who have been exposed toin contact with Dementors, to boost their spirits anew."

As he said 'emotional shock,' his gaze slid away from hers, coming to rest on the hearth, where it remained. There was a long pause, during which she sampled the chocolate, which seemed to help with the cold, if not her sore breasts and lips or wounded dignity. Severus broke the silence.

"Draco Malfoy has been brought up to believe that wizards born of Muggle parents are inferior to him. It has been drummed into his head since birth that Muggle-borns, and Muggles, are practically subhuman, and that he is entitled to complete power over them, the power of life and death, should he desire. His parents believed that, their friends believed that; to his credit, he resisted to a point. To my knowledge he has never killed a Muggle or Muggle-born who was not trying to kill him."

"Is that supposed to be an excuse for what he tried to do?" Anger had broken Sasha's self-imposed silence, and she sat up now, practically slamming the mug of cocoa on the coffee table and staring at Snape, who held up a placating hand.

"Absolutely not. In no way do I condone or see reason for what he did. Had you not done so, I most likely would have thrashed him soundly."

She relaxed a little, but with his mention of thrashing, she remembered that she had punched someone in the jaw; accordingly, her right hand started to hurt like hell. She inhaled sharply and grabbed her right wrist, studying the swelling knuckles with a tight smile.

"Is your hand injured?"

She flexed the fingers experimentally, gritting her teeth against the pain. They bent obediently, albeit stiffly. "Nothing's broken. It's just been a while since I punched someone."

One black eyebrow "Wasarched. "Was it a regular occurrence at one point?"

"Until people learned not to call my father 'fairy' or 'queer' where I could hear them, it was. It took some people until fifth year."

"I see. Excuse me for a moment." With that, he stood and strode towards a door in the opposite wall. She heard it open and shut, and then Severus was gone.

Why was she here? Did he only want to discuss Malfoy's upbringing and her previous fistfights? He had said that he wanted to discuss the events of the evening; she assumed that meant the argument they'd had. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't bring it up on his own. He would just be Severus, perhaps a temporarily more caring Severus, but still not one who would encourage any romantic thoughts on her part or his. Fear still owned that part of him, and so he would just stay in his dungeon when she had gone and avoid her as much as possible so he would not have to admit what he felt and never knowing what he was missing.

A song came to her then, one that described him so well she wondered if it had been written for him. Almost unconsciously she began to sing, for that was what singing was, wasn't it? The form of language taken when there was too much emotion for flat words; when the need for meaning outweighed the need for sense; and when rhyme went with truth, not reason.

* * *

Severus stood inside the store room for a minute, breathing hard as he had not dared to in front of her. She was so _vulnerable_ right now, curled on his couch with her bruised hand cradled against her and anger warring with hurt in her eyes. Her _green_ eyes. Why did they find him and bewitch him, these women with green eyes? 

And were they all destined to hurt him?

He didn't want to find out if this one would, and so he steadied his breathing, grabbed the pain-numbing potion he'd come in for and opened the door back to his quarters.

She was in the same position as he'd left her – knees against her chest, left hand cradling right, staring at the fire. But now she was singing.

"_He's a real nowhere man_

_Sitting in his nowhere land_

_Making all his nowhere plans for nobody,"_

Severus wanted to escape, but the door had shut with a click, and she turned to see him standing there, petrified. Slowly, she unfolded her legs and stood, still singing.

"_Doesn't have a point of view_

_Knows not where he's going to_

_Isn't he a bit like you and me?"_

She was slowly coming towards him now, eyes locked on his, and it suddenly became clear that she was not singing _to_ him, but _at_ him, and he realized that there was a world of difference between the two.

"_Nowhere man, please listen_

_You don't know what you're missing_

_Nowhere man, the world is at your command!"_

There were only five feet between them now, and Severus found he could move again. He backed up, remembered that there was a wall there, and turned to the right instead, still moving backwards as she continued to move forward. He felt the accusation in the next lines; it hit harder than what she had said at the party earlier.

"_He's as blind as he can be!_

_Just sees what he wants to see!_

_Nowhere man, can you see me at all?"_

Could he see her?_Could he see her?_ Merlin, yes he could; his panicked gaze was glued to her, a gaze that he knew became more panicked when his shoulder blades hit a wall. Another wall grazed his left arm, and Severus knew that she had him cornered; she knew it too, by the way she picked up the pace slightly, until she sang the next words right under him, looking up into his eyes.

"_Nowhere man, don't worry_

_Take your time, no hurry_

_Leave it all 'till_ – mmff!"

When a lovely young woman is viciously singing at you with words that seem designed to make you realize how lonely you are, Severus figured that there was no alternate way to silence her but with a kiss. So he stooped, cupped her chin, and brought her lips up to his, careful not to kiss too hard, since her lips were probably still tender from Draco's mauling of them. There was brief moment when he felt vibrations from the notes she had not stopped herself from singing; then she was kissing him back, passionately, with a heat he knew had been stoked all semester by his games. Her tongue tapped his lips, and he parted them to let her in; she brushed his tongue with her own, and he responded in kind; she moaned against his lips. Slowly he brought one hand up behind her head, feeling her tangled hair twist around his fingers. One small hand wrapped around his waist while the other came up to very gently brush his cheek with stiff knuckles; with a start, he remembered the potion he had grabbed and broke away from the kiss, reaching into his pocket for it.

"Er… this will help your… your hand," he stammered.

From the look she was giving him, this had not been the wisest thing to do.

* * *

He had been kissing her, and kissing her well, and then he had stopped to give her a potion to make her hand feel better. 

He was in so much trouble. But that would come later. Not taking her eyes off his, she grabbed the potion, yanked the cork out with her teeth, downed it in two gulps, threw the bottle to the side and grabbed the front of his robes. Expertly, she reached up to kiss him, very gently, hardly touching his lips; when he leaned in for more, she took a step backwards; he followed. In this manner, Sasha got him over to the couch and turned around so his back was to it. A light push on his chest and he half-sat, half-collapsed on to the sofa. Before he could get up and ask her what she was doing, she slid on top of him, kneeling with her legs straddling his hips, and she began to resume what they had been doing earlier.

Only this time, she didn't have to stand on tiptoe. This time, she was pressed firmly against his torso, ignoring the dull ache as her sore breasts pushed against his sculpted muscles, while his hands began to move up and down her back in the most delicious way. Vaguely, she heard a clock chime twelve.

_Happy New Year, Severus Snape_, she thought, before redoubling her efforts at kissing. _The fun is just beginning._

**AN: I don't own the lyrics to "Nowhere Man." One of the Beatles does. Doesn't it seem perfect for Severus, though? **_  
_


	16. Chapter 16: Rise and Shine!

Chapter 16: Rise and Shine

Severus woke slowly. Something was wrong. He felt no blankets upon himself, but he was warm. There was also something soft and warm next to him. It was breathing.

He opened his eyes to find them full of blond hair.

The events of the previous night came back to him very quickly. He and Sasha had been kissing for a long time; he couldn't remember how long or when exactly she had fallen asleep against his chest, or how long he had sat there, looking at her and wondering what the hell he'd got himself into before he had carried her to his room, placed her on top of the covers, and collapsed next to her, fully dressed.

Now here he was on New Year's Day with Sasha in his bed, still wearing the green dress from the night before. She was snoring quietly, one hand under the pillow and the other draped over her chest; he noticed that her skirt had ridden almost all the way up her thighs. Carefully, he drew it down again, not wanting to test his willpower – or hers.

_Willpower_. Oh, yes, that had served him well the night before; he had ended up doing exactly what he had set himself against – falling for her. Angry at himself though he was, Severus could not bring himself to regret what he had done, nor could he bring himself to wake her up and coldly escort her to the door. To begin with, he had no desire to eject her from his quarters; quite the contrary, he wanted her to stay for some time.

Could he continue this? Should he? Being fired was not a particularly pleasant idea at the moment, but neither was spending the rest of the year longing for more of what he had tasted last night. Sasha was intelligent; she could certainly be discreet, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that _she_ would attempt to continue the relationship whether he approved of it or not. And after serving two sides of a major war simultaneously, hiding an intimate relationship with a student would be as easy as failing Longbottom.

Besides, he had been given considerable incentive. A woman had not kissed him like that since… Actually, he was not sure any woman had kissed him quite like that. There had been Death Eaters and purebloods who kissed with equal fervor and considerably more talent before, during, and after he had sex with them, but there had been no feelings implied by it. Desire, maybe; lust, definitely; fear, occasionally; but never any emotion. The only woman for whom he had ever felt something had never kissed him, passionately or otherwise; Lily had seen him as a friend, until she saw him as a Death Eater.

_Brooding on the past will not help you – or her – decide upon the future_, said a voice at the back of his mind. Severus sighed, reached over and shook her shoulder gently, saying, "Sasha, wake up."

The girl stirred a bit, opening her eyes slightly to peer at him through her lashes, before producing a sound along the lines of, "Nnnngggh," and rolling away from him, presumably to go back to sleep.

_Not a morning person, are we?_ he thought, smirking to himself. Well, there were other, more enjoyable ways to wake a woman up. Carefully, he inched forward on the bed until he was right behind her; then he gently brushed his lips over the sensitive skin on the back of her neck, stirring the fine hairs on it. As he continued to kiss his way from her neck to her shoulder, he slid one hand over her waist and began to caress her stomach, moving the fabric of her dress over her firm flesh.

As he had known she would, Sasha began to move in response to his ministrations; she arched slightly and twisted, trying to get more contact with him, but he moved away a little, still teasing her with his fingers by running them up and down her spine. "If you want more, you have to get up," he murmured, sitting up in order to lead by example.

With a groan, she rolled back over to face him; her eyes were open now, though they were bleary. A hand grasped his shoulder, and she heaved herself up. He had to suppress a grin at her appearance; there were some traces of makeup around her eyes, her dress was very rumpled and still half-open, and parts of her hair were successfully defying gravity. She yawned, adding to the classic image of a sleep tousled, but still attractive, woman.

"Well done. Unfortunately, you have to get out of the bed to collect your reward," he said silkily, sliding his legs over the side and standing up. He wasn't in much better shape than she was; his hair was as greasy as ever, and his robes were a wrinkled mess. With a snort of disgust he unfastened the buttons and pulled off the robes Draco had given him, tossing them into the basket of dirty laundry for the house-elves to deal with. The white undershirt he was wearing followed, and he summoned a clean, black button-down from his wardrobe; as he pulled it on and began buttoning it, a thought occurred to him. Turning back to the bed, he asked Sasha, "Would you like something more – ah – casual to wear?"

It seemed to take her a moment to process what he had said, but she nodded and slid out of the bed on her side. He summoned one of his clean undershirts and a pair of cotton drawstring pants and handed them to her, since she didn't look awake enough to catch anything. "You can change in the loo," he added, pointing towards a door behind her. She nodded and padded through it, closing it firmly behind her.

After a minute, he heard the toilet flush, followed by the sound of the shower turning on. Upon hearing _that_, Severus' imagination treated him to several very interesting images before he slammed mental walls down on it; he didn't need to spend breakfast feeling like his pants were too tight.

As he went about preparing breakfast, ("preparing" simply being a diplomatic way of saying "growling orders at scared house-elves"), muffled notes of song found their way from the loo to where he sat in his sitting-room. He recognized "O Mio Babbino Caro," a pretty little arietta that she was doing justice to; apparently even trained singers sang in the shower.

She emerged soon after, looking slightly more awake and considerably less disheveled; the makeup that had been smudged around her eyes had vanished, and her hair, though wet, was no longer sticking up. Severus smirked; she had had to roll up his pants several times, by the look of the cuffs, and she could have worn his undershirt as a dress, albeit a skimpy one. The smirk vanished as she made a beeline for the chair he was sitting in, seized his head in her hands and kissed him soundly, sucking on his lower lip for a few moments before delving into his mouth with her tongue.

"There. My reward for getting up," she said once they had parted, both of them breathing rather hard. "Now. Breakfast." With that, she sank into the chair across from him, seized the coffeepot and a mug, and poured herself a cup before reaching for a muffin. They ate in silence, quickly demolishing the repast set on the coffeetable by the elves. But once the food was gone, and both parties were fully awake, an awkward silence descended upon them; they looked at each other for some time before Sasha spoke.

* * *

"Professor, I-," she began, before she stopped. How on earth was she supposed to say what she needed to say? She wanted this to continue, Merlin yes, but she wasn't entirely sure how he was going to feel now that he was fully wake and out of bed; what if he decided that he had second thoughts about having an ongoing relationship with – face it – a student? A few hours of wild kissing after a rather emotionally wrought evening was one thing (not to mention that she had backed him into a corner), but she knew from experience that a relationship was trickier, both from an emotional and logistical point of view – especially when it might get him fired and her expelled.

But she wanted it. She wanted it – _him­ _- so badly… Even now his black eyes were resting on her face and she felt herself heating up a little in response, remembering just how those eyes had smoldered with passion the previous night.

Give that up? No, thank you.

Gathering her nerve, she forced out, "Professor, do you want to… continue this?" She winced slightly, hearing her voice shake, but she managed to hold his gaze steadily, watching for any reaction.

There was another pause. His face betrayed nothing, but she had expected no less from him, whatever his opinion. With bated breath, she waited for him to speak, and when he finally opened that wonderful, sexy, _talented_ mouth, she felt her nails dig into her palms.

"I would prefer it," he said quietly, "if you were to call me Severus whilst we are in intimate situations. 'Professor' seems ludicrously formal given our activities."

"God, you Slytherins can't even say 'yes' in a straightforward way, can you?" she replied, feeling her face break into a wide grin. Her heart was pounding in her chest, both from relief and the thought of more nights similar to the one before.

"Not if we can avoid it. Is it still a satisfactory answer?"

"Yes."

"Ever the blunt Ravenclaw."

"Blunt?" she replied innocently. "I have always been praised for having a keen mind and a sharp tongue."

Before she could do anything, he had risen from his chair and covered the distance to hers; now he gripped both arms of her chair and leaned down until there were barely two inches between her face and his. "I warn you, Sasha, that puns are punishable in this dungeon by detention, especially when told before midday. I am afraid that I shall have to assign you one."

"Oh, dear, Severus. What do I have to do?" she replied, trying to keep a straight face.

"Spend this day with me."

"Aw, can't I scrub cauldrons instead?"

He glared at her, and then kissed her heatedly, kneeling on the floor and pulling her down a bit to meet him. Willingly she followed his pull, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing herself as close to him as she could, feeling the desire she'd suppressed all semester rear its head and taste the air of freedom as she tasted Severus Snape.

Thirty minutes later they had managed to migrate to the floor in front of the hearth, and Sasha decided that only Severus could look completely dignified and menacing while sprawled on the floor, leaning against a couch. She was sitting cross-legged a few feet away, enjoying the view. The two of them had been shooting questions back and forth at each other for ten minutes, an activity that he had joined in only reluctantly. Thus far she had discovered that his favorite color was black (big surprise), that he didn't like cats _or_ dogs, and that his favorite composer was Vivaldi. She, in turn, had told him that she loved Indian food, hated the color pink, and had barely passed her Transfiguration O.W.L., which amused him to no end. He was still smirking when he asked his next question.

"Last night, you mentioned that you used to get into fights because students slandered your father, but you must have known that fighting would only reinforce the idea that he was homosexual. Why did you fight, when ignoring them would have been wiser?"

"The _idea_ that he was gay? Severus, everyone knew that my father was gay from the first day they saw Tristan, him, and me on platform nine and three-quarters. I just have strong objections to the terms they used to refer to him and the tone with which they did it. And I hope you harbor no such opinions, Severus, for both our sakes." She stared hard at him, watching to see what he would do. She didn't want this to come between them, especially at this early stage, but family was family.

He stared broodingly into the fireplace for a long moment before replying.

"I learned to resist idiotic prejudices long ago, as all they ever do is cost you friends you cannot afford to lose."

Sasha got the distinct impression that there was a long and painful story behind that, and she decided that it wasn't something to discuss now. Casting around in her mind, she came up with something that had been nagging her.

"Severus, how did you find me so quickly last night? You couldn't have known I would go to that place; _I_ didn't even know where I was until I nearly fell over the bench."

"Never miss a trick, do you? Lupin showed up right after you fled oh-so-dramatically into the tempest. He asked me if he could help and I was about to tell him to remove himself when I remembered that he has a -," He stopped abruptly, a look of mingled horror and anger slowly twisting his features as he swiftly got to his feet, leaving her utterly nonplussed.

"What is it, Severus? What does he have?" she queried, getting to her feet much more slowly than he did.

Black hair swung around his face as he whipped around to look at her, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared.

"You must go," he said. "Now." When she didn't move his face darkened and she felt a small quiver of fear in her stomach, which only increased when he seized her shoulders and pulled her in the direction of the door; he opened it and peered up and down the corridor, impatiently shushing her quiet inquiries.

When he had deemed it safe to leave, he turned back to her and said, "Go back to Ravenclaw tower. If you encounter Lupin and he asks you why you have been here, say that you needed to borrow a book from my personal library and I would not let you take it from my quarters."

"_What the hell is this all about?_" she hissed. "I don't understand what you're worried about, I don't see how Lupin could know I'm here-,"

"Sasha, trust me, I will explain later," he interjected, staring into her eyes as though he could make her know what he knew. Swiftly he kissed her, somehow communicating through physical contact what words never quite said, and she knew beyond doubt that if he was suddenly teleported to Lithuania, he would still try to tell her.

"To be continued," he murmured into her ear, "at five-thirty in the library, Potions aisle. Now, please, do as I say!"

'_Please' really is the magic word_, she thought as she stepped away from him and watched him close the door before turning to make her way to Ravenclaw tower, feeling confused and a little hurt that he had dismissed her so abruptly. However, she mused, he seemed to have his reasons, and he had promised to meet her later to explain what had upset him so much, and how Lupin was involved.

A memory surfaced; the day she and Severus had nearly kissed out by the lake, only to be interrupted by Slughorn. She remembered the old man saying that Lupin had known exactly where they were, even though his classroom windows didn't face the lake, and he had said he would be grading tests that morning. Unless he had decided to mark papers in a different locale, there would have been no way he could have seen that spot by the lake or known that Sasha and Snape would be there.

Lupin certainly did seem to have a talent for knowing where people were, she reflected. For instance, he had the entire castle to wander about in and yet he'd managed to find the exact corridor she was currently traversing. As he hurried towards her, a concerned look deepening the lines on his face, she remembered that she was wearing Severus' clothes.

_Oh, bugger._


	17. Chapter 17: The Brains of the Outfit

Chapter 17

"Good morning, Professor. Happy New Year," she said, forcing her face into a bright smile that she realized was probably a bit much, especially as she was not known for being ebullient. Few teachers could spot an emotional cover like Lupin, and she saw with a sinking heart that his eyebrows had shot up at her greeting, a sure sign of suspicion on his part.

"The same to you. And how was your New Years? I thought I saw you at the party, but you left early." Although his tone was as mild and friendly as ever, those brown eyes were locked on her face as though he was counting every pore.

"Oh, it was fine. I decided to go to sleep early; that's why I left the party," she said, trying hard to look casual. Why did the world see fit to put her in situations where she had to lie to people who were good at spotting lies? She was honest to a fault, especially with herself, and she was perfectly aware that her nose practically grew when she lied.

"I guess that would be why you're up and about before eight o'clock in the morning? Possibly asking the house-elves to hem those pants for you?"

_Damn._ "They are a bit long, aren't they?" _Come on, brain, work! _" I… er… stole them from my stepdad, Tristan; he's sort of a human Astronomy Tower. They're very comfortable though, as are many clothes you don't want anyone to see you wearing." She forced a grin, knowing that it looked a bit manic and praying that it passed muster.

He didn't drop his intense gaze, but he said, "Indeed. Well, I have to go speak to Professor Snape about something – excuse me." And off he went, without so much as an inquiry as to whether she'd slept in Ravenclaw Tower or not. No tricks to make her reveal herself, no Spanish Inquisition or even Twenty Questions, for that matter. Just polite conversation that anyone would have in that situation. In fact, had it not been for Severus' warning and the piercing look in Lupin's eyes, she would have believed every word he spoke to be innocuous, but she trusted Severus' judgment and her own instincts. Maybe Lupin didn't know anything for sure, but her excuses had been pathetic, and his hackles were up.

As she continued to Ravenclaw Tower, she hoped that Lupin had not been going to the dungeons to accuse the Potions Master of fraternizing with his students. A slightly cheering thought occurred to her – if he was, then at least Severus was a much better liar than she was.

* * *

Severus stared into the fire, his mind working at full speed as he tried to figure out what lies he could possibly feed to Lupin were he to storm in and inquire as to why Sasha had spent the night in Severus' bed, with Severus in it.

He couldn't say she had been ill; Lupin would ask why she had not been taken to the infirmary. And if he said that she'd simply fallen asleep in his bed, that would provoke the question of why he, a man known for coldness and privacy, had not simply woken her and sent her back to her dormitory (not to mention the question of why she had been in his quarters to start with). At least a dozen possible excuses flitted through Severus' mind, but all of them had holes a hippogriff could fly through.

There was a polite knock at the door, one that Severus knew fairly well, as it generally preceded a certain man inquiring about his Wolfsbane Potion. It was never a knock he enjoyed hearing, and at the moment it nearly gave him heart failure. Although he was not a man given to belief in deities of any sort, Severus could not help a small prayer for assistance as he strode to the heavy oak door and opened it about six inches.

"Can I help you, Lupin?" he growled, glaring at the werewolf standing outside his door. "Do you perhaps require a potion to repel fleas?"

Lupin was staring at him, eyebrows raised. He took no notice of the jibe, but said, "Interesting outfit, Severus. I just saw Sasha Cupris wearing it."

Severus knew it was paramount that he not react; that statement didn't necessarily mean that Lupin suspected anything, and if he let his feelings show, he could prove himself guilty without anyone ever accusing him. "Well, I can certainly see how that would be interesting. Imagine two people wearing black pants and white sleeveless shirts on the same day. It stretches the boundaries of the imagination," he said scathingly, reverting to sarcasm as his defense, hoping to throw Lupin off the scent.

"Well, I guess you share her stepfather's taste in clothes, since she said they were his," said Lupin blithely. "Actually, I came to see if she was all right last night."

"She was as 'all right' as can be expected for someone who stood in a rainstorm for twenty minutes."

"You know what I mean. Why was she _in_ the rainstorm, Severus?"

"That is information I have neither the right nor the desire to divulge to you. If she wants you to know, no doubt she will tell you the whole sordid tale," Severus answered curtly. "If that is all, Lupin?" Before the other man could say anything else, Severus shut the door firmly in his face. He listened for a moment, and then heard retreating footsteps.

Bless her little Ravenclaw mind for thinking of her stepfather. Severus knew that they both had just dodged the proverbial bullet, but he knew better that to push his luck; luck had a way of shoving you to the ground and jumping on you when pushed.

After a drink of firewhisky to settle his nerves, which were jangling like church bells, Severus sat down and began to think very long and very hard about Sasha, Lupin, and anything connected to those two.

Apparently, Lupin hadn't watched the map last night, but that was no guarantee of such an occurrence in the future, and thus steps had to be taken either to plan innocent- appearing rendezvous, or to somehow exclude himself and Sasha from the map's tracking system. Either that, or "accidentally" drop the map into a fireplace, assuming that it had no fire-protection charms on it, which it probably did – Potter and his friends would not have wanted it to be easily damaged. And to top it off, he and Sasha had to sabotage it in a way that did not alert Lupin's suspicions.

Foremost, they had to figure out how it worked. It had to be some variation on a tracking charm, which was somehow connected to the ink on the parchment. There also had to be some sort of scanning effect that discovered the identities of people Lupin did not necessarily know and tracked their movements as well, even if they were transformed or disguised. Thinking it over, Severus had to admit (albeit grudgingly) that it was an impressive piece of magic for a couple of teenagers; however, he was fairly confident that he and Sasha could figure out a way to deceive Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

The day seemed to drag by. Severus brewed a few potions, read, graded the Gryffindor tests (an activity guaranteed to improve his spirits and strain his supply of red ink), and occasionally stared at the clock. At four-thirty, he slipped out of his quarters and swiftly made his way to the library, taking the opportunity to glare menacingly at the first-year Hufflepuff boy who had the misfortune to run into him.

There was no one in the library; Irma Pince was no doubt off canoodling with Filch in a broom cupboard somewhere, a mental image that made Severus shudder. However, at the moment he was grateful for their romance, as it was enabling his own, and he made his way to the Potions section and settled down in a large armchair that faced away from the main aisle.

At approximately five o'clock he heard quiet, hesitant footsteps coming down the aisle; they stopped a little ways behind him, and he could hear someone breathing. Severus held very still as the person crept towards the chair he was sitting in, until out of the corner of his eye he saw Sasha appear next to his chair, apparently oblivious to his presence. With snakelike speed, he snapped his arm out and grabbed the wrist nearest to him, jerking her over the arm of the chair and into his lap. She squeaked in surprise and fought for a second before she realized who it was.

"_Severus!_ Circe, I was about to break your nose before I recognized it!" she half-snarled, straightening herself until she was sitting in a more upright position. She smacked his shoulder, hard enough that it stung, and glared at him. Jeans and a t-shirt had replaced his undershirt and cotton pants, though he noticed that she didn't have them with her.

"Worry not; dodging your blow would have been very easy," he replied smoothly, reaching out to wrap his arms around her waist, but she grabbed his wrist and stared hard into his eyes.

"For future reference, Severus, it is neither considerate nor wise to surprise and seize a woman who was smacked into a wall and molested the night before!" Her grip on his wrist was almost painful, and he could feel her shaking slightly; a look at her tight, fearful expression, and he understood that he had truly frightened her.

"I am not known for being considerate." Hopefully she would understand the implications of that statement; that he was not a kind person, that he could be very selfish, and that she was not excluded from those aspects of his personality. In lieu of a verbal apology, he brought a hand up to cup her cheek, and was rewarded when she leaned into the contact rather than shying from it.

A small gust of air brushed his face as she sighed, but then she leaned forward and gently kissed him, which he took to mean that he was forgiven. When they broke apart, she slid neatly off his lap and took a seat in the incredibly ugly armchair opposite his – it was a unique sort of chartreuse velvet and extremely worn, with several chintz patches covering the larger holes. Toeing off her trainers, she tucked her legs underneath her and looked at him expectantly.

"So," she began, "what did Lupin want to talk to you about?"

"You," he replied, reaching to the closest shelf and pulling out two books, one of which he gave to her, the other he opened and rested on his knee. Catching her puzzled look, he said, "In the unlikely event that anyone appears here, we're having a debate over-," he glanced at the page he had opened to, "- the usefulness of unicorn hair and horns."

"I see. Did he mention where my clothes were from?"

"Yes. I hope, if he ever meets your stepfather, that he is a tall man."

"Six five, last time I checked. He's probably still growing," was the dry reply he got. She took a more serious tone when she continued: "Do you think Lupin knows?"

"He gave no indication of having noticed any of our less chaste activities last night, but that is not to say that he does not suspect something. We should practice constant vigilance until we conceive a plan to thwart his observation apparatus entirely."

"So what is it that we're trying to thwart, precisely?" she asked, leaning forward and clasping her hands together, looking as serious as he had ever seen her. Quickly, he explained about the map that Lupin had, as well as his thoughts on how to defeat it. When he had finished, her eyes were narrowed and she had begun running a finger along the arch of her nose in thought; after a minute she sighed, shook her head and said, "I don't see how we can try to counter it without knowing how it works. It's definitely a very complex piece of magic-,"

"Which was created by a few overconfident teenagers, so there are bound to be flaws in its design that we simply haven't had the opportunity to discover," he interrupted, a little irritably. It was something made by Potter and Black, two people whose egos required their own postal codes; no doubt it was fairly simple in design, but flashy in appearance.

"Don't discount the skills of teenagers, Severus," she replied, "unless you are implying that _my _skills are similarly useless?"

"You're… different."

"I'll take that as a 'no,' then. Anyway," she said, standing up and looking down at him, "we need to find a way to study that map, without Lupin knowing about it."

Severus considered that for a moment, tracing the contours of his mouth with a finger, then smirked as a thought came to him. It would be a fairly simple task, and with a few precautions and not-quite-legal actions, Lupin need never know. Better yet, they had two weeks to carefully plan and arrange it, and it would guarantee two full days with the map, but sans Lupin.

"I have a plan," he stated, "but it cannot be put into motion until the next full moon."

"The full moon?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together in perplexity.

"Tell me, Sasha, did you never wonder why Lupin is absent from his classes once a month? How his 'illnesses' always last for two days and seem to occur very regularly?" He watched her as she thought about it, the finger returning to run up and down her nose, an action that was becoming increasingly erotic.

"What is another name for aconite?" he asked suddenly, startling her into answering immediately.

"Monkshood or wolfsbane," she replied, and he nodded curtly.

"Use the brain I know is inside that pretty head of yours," he snapped when she didn't immediately figure it out. "Connections, Sasha!"

Suddenly, her eyes, which had been unfocused with thought, widened in abrupt enlightenment. "Severus, are you saying that Lupin is a werewolf?" she said quietly, looking at him for confirmation, and receiving it in the form of a nod.

"Wait. You make a potion every month, around the same time… Wolfsbane Potion?" Nod. "And does this plan have to do with that potion?" Another nod.

"But let us not discuss it here; such things can be elucidated while school is in session. Privacy is something we are currently in possession of, and we Slytherins always take advantage of the situation at hand-,"

Slowly, he stood up and stepped towards her, sliding one long arm around her waist and drawing her towards him, reveling in the feel of her soft curves against his lean planes. As a very thin man, he had never been much for thin women; he had discovered that at least one side of a sexual liaison should have some… padding. On the few occasions when he had slept with a skinny woman, both of them had woken up with bruises on the bonier parts of their bodies. It didn't help that, in those instances, he could never quite get over the sense that he was making love to a female version of himself. But now there was this lovely little thing who was certainly _not_ skinny pressed against him – not that she was fat, precisely, but there was a nice plumpness to her curves that resulted in her flesh molding to his form.

Plans and Lupin forgotten for the moment, he bent down to kiss her passionately, wrapping his arms around her waist as she reached up to grasp his shoulders. She moaned into his mouth when he slid his hands under the hem of her shirt, feeling her smooth, warm skin under his callused hands; slowly he began to caress her back, passing his hands under the fastening of her bra before sliding back down to the hem of her jeans. He had to admit, as she slid her hands down his chest and stomach only to slide them back up under the fabric, that Muggle clothes were much more practical in some ways than robes.


	18. Chapter 18: Putting Ideas to Sleep

**AN: I'm not dead yet!!! I'm so sorry about not updating for a long time. I've been really busy with real life stuff and my other fic, and frankly inspiration for this one didn't come until recently. Here's a new chapter and I swear I will keep updating whenever I can. **

Chapter 18: Putting Ideas to Sleep

"So, what did you do here while I was away?"

"Er…," Sasha looked at Jas' eager expression and wished she didn't have to lie to her best friend - her _only_ friend, come to that - but she certainly couldn't divulge the activities of her break. She could imagine the other girl's reaction to finding out that Sasha was involved with Snape.

_"Sasha… oh, Merlin, what were you thinking? Wait… did he seduce you? Force you? He did, didn't he? We should report him straight away! Let's go talk to Flitwick!"_

Jas, protective, sweet Jas, wouldn't understand that Sasha could want someone like Severus, someone snarky, older, and unattractive. Of course, to be fair, Sasha had never understood why Jas was interested in someone like Decoste.

It was with a certain amount of regret, then, that Sasha replied, "Not much. I read a lot, and once I gave Lupin a hand catching some hinkypunks, but there really wasn't much to do. How was your holiday?" she added, desperate to change the subject before she did something that gave her away. As Jas launched into a narrative about her youngest cousin discovering his magic by launching his Christmas dinner vegetables across the dining room table, Sasha realized that she was going to spend the rest of the term lying to people.

Classes started a few days later, and the seventh years were astounded by the amount of work they were given. Up until that point, Sasha had not given much thought to her N.E.W.T.s, but the sudden intensity of the curriculum and the "pass or die trying" attitude of all the teachers was more than enough to get her started on studying. On top of that, she and Severus were due to start working on the method for getting past Lupin – he had told her that if their usual Wednesday night was not sufficient time, then she was going to have to do something to merit him giving her a detention. It had to be something realistic and witnessed by others, as well as enough of a misdemeanor that him keeping her late would not be questioned. She had a few ideas, but they would all take a bit of planning and a good deal more luck than she felt entirely comfortable with.

Wednesday night brought their first work period, and she shivered as she hurried through the dungeons to the Potions classroom, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Severus had explained his ideas to her right before the term started, and she knew he had been experimenting on his own, but after researching the Wolfbane Potion and the various sleeping potions available, Sasha had come up with a few ideas. Of course, it was entirely likely that he had come up with them, too.

She knocked on the door, heard his customary "Enter!" and slipped inside. Almost immediately she gagged and covered her nose and mouth with her cloak; the room _reeked_ of Wolfbane Potion. There were several cauldrons, all smoking faintly, that contained the brown, murky concoction; a single one was generally enough to make her nose wrinkle, but more was turning her stomach. Deep sympathy for Lupin welled up inside her; any potion that smelled this bad had to taste awful, and he had to drink it seven times a month.

"When you are finished pandering to your delicate senses, Sasha, feel free to come over here and assist me." Severus was bent over one of the cauldrons holding a dripping ladle as he carefully added what looked like powdered unicorn horn to the potion. A plume of acid green smoke erupted from it, which made him jerk back with an oath. He scowled at it for a moment before picking up a quill and making a note on a piece of parchment; he then turned his scowl to her. Hastily she picked her way over to him, still clamping her cloak over her nose and mouth.

"Apparently, unicorn horn does not react favorably with Wolfsbane. Tell me why that is a problem for us," he said in his commanding Potions Master voice that sent shivers up her spine even now. He had a gentler voice that he slipped into sometimes, mostly while they were entwined about each other, but it was this brisk, cool voice that had attracted her from the start, and it continued to do so. Without that edge, that coldness, he would not be Severus.

Shaking off the flush of heat she felt, Sasha answered, "Unicorn horn is an integral ingredient in almost all sleeping potions." There were few potions she had heard of that didn't use horn, but they tended to be the specialized ones, like the Draught of Living Death, or else they had nasty side effects. Making Wolfsbane soporific without unicorn horn was going to be very difficult, and the information made most of her ideas utterly useless.

* * *

"Correct. Have you a solution to recommend?"

Severus straightened and looked over at Sasha. To his displeasure, he found that she was holding her cloak over her mouth and nose, which not only obstructed his view of said features, but also prevented her from using smell to aid her in making potions. The smell of a potion could say things that its visual appearance could not; as a man with a very large and sensitive nose, he was a master of olfactory discernment. Although her nose was not as large as his was, he would not be the teacher he was if he let her waste any of her potential. He reached over and grasped her wrist, pulling it away from her face and allowing her cloak to fall down to her shoulders. Immediately, her face twisted in disgust, but he grabbed her other hand as she reached for the cloak and forced her to breathe the rank air. Gradually, as she grew used to the smell, the look of disgust on her face eased, only to be replaced by a fierce glare in his direction.

"You could have _asked_."

"Would you have complied?" he countered, arching an eyebrow at her. Silence answered him, and he smirked. "I didn't think so. Now, utilize your nose and tell me what this smells like," he commanded, pointing to the dissipating green smoke.

With a last resentful look at him, she leaned over the cauldron and took a delicate sniff, which brought perhaps a cubic centimeter of air into her nostrils. Had he been a man given to such juvenile expressions of exasperation, Severus would have rolled his eyes. Clearly, she required a bit of encouragement. In one swift movement, he pressed himself into her back, wrapping his arms around her stomach; he quickly located the spot where her neck joined her shoulder and caressed it with his lips for a moment. Then he bit down, just hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp from her; he felt her diaphragm swell as she breathed the way any trained singer would – deeply and fully, taking in as much air as possible.

"That is how you must breathe to fully explore a scent, Sasha, except through your nostrils."

"I… I'm not sure I quite understand. Could you possibly… explain it again?" she breathed, now leaning back into him and covering his embracing hands with her own. They were now pressed together, her head leaning on his chest, and it took a large amount of self-control for him to disentangle his arms from her grasping hands and step backwards, away from her warm, soft body. If he let himself continue what he had inadvertently started, they would never get any work done. It was a little frightening how great an effect she could have on him when she was close to him, murmuring temptations in her throaty voice, or even just talking to him about platonic topics. Only one woman had ever been able to distract him like this, and he wasn't sure how he felt about another sharing that ability.

To his immense relief, she took the hint and switched back to more academic subjects. "I smelled… something sour, acidic. Er… there was also a hint of rot, like fruit that went bad."

He nodded. That was what he had scented, for the most part. Sharp, unpleasant scents were not indicative of soporific effects; the exact scent varied with ingredients, but most sleep-related potions smelled vaguely floral or sweet, though they did not necessarily taste thus. The task now was to find an ingredient, or a combination of ingredients, to replace unicorn horn. He had actually suspected previously that horn might not react properly with the potion; it and aconite rarely mixed well, and the lacewings and shrivelfig skin served to further antagonize the mixture.

The cauldron of potion bubbled and swirled as he stared at it, racking his brain for ideas.

"Severus? I just thought of something…" Her voice broke his thoughts, and he glanced at her. She, too, was considering the potion, her head cocked to one side. "It's a bit unorthodox, I suppose, but it's surely worth a try."

"By all means, enlighten me," he replied, with an extravagant wave of his hand.

"Valerian. It's used by Muggles to aid with sleep. It's not very strong, but we might be able to extract an essence or make an infusion of it. And I was thinking that dogs and wolves sleep a lot anyway, so it might not take much to put him under."

As far as ideas went, it was not entirely idiotic. If the valerian was as mild as she said it was, then it would be less likely to react badly with the Wolfsbane, and they would run less of a risk of overdosing Lupin and doing him damage. He could easily Floo to Diagon Alley and from there go into Muggle London to purchase some of the herb. He relayed these thoughts to Sasha as they occurred to him.

Since the herb could not be acquired for a few days, they would require a session the next week, which in turn required her to get a detention. Sasha did not look particularly pleased about that idea, but he gave her his most severe no-is-not-an-option look, and she subsided.

"Try to act up on Friday or Saturday. I will be able to go to London Friday afternoon, once classes are over, and an all-day detention on Sunday would be ideal," he told her as he Vanished the ruined potion and decanted the rest into vials, which he then placed in his private stores. She had carefully replaced the remnants of the horn in the jar that it resided in; that went into the student cupboard. Severus returned from his stores to find her seated on a desk with her feet propped on the seat of a chair as she waited for him. For the second time that evening, he glided up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from the back, sliding her over the wooden desk until she rested against his torso.

"Of course, a day-long detention could have some fringe benefits," he murmured in her ear as he slid his hands up to cup her breasts.

"Really? And what benefits might those be?," she asked coyly, leaning her head back to look up at him with her big green eyes. One of her hands came up and gently insinuated itself into his hair, forcing him to bend a little lower to avoid pulling. He kissed her gently, teasingly brushing his lips over hers until she yanked him down against her mouth and slipped her tongue into his.

Pulling away a little ways, he said, "I always knew finding a way to put that werewolf to sleep would be enjoyable."

"_Put him to_ – Severus Snape, you are positively macabre."

"A veritable Edgar Allen Poe, except that I do not feel compelled to compose pages of poetry about it. I am not such an exhibitionist with my feelings, thank you."

"I don't know about that. You were expressing them quite adequately a moment ago. Could I possibly inspire you to continue or is kissing now listed under 'nevermore'?"

In answer, Severus brought his lips to her neck and proceeded to work his way down from there, pausing only to allow them both to remove some impeding articles of clothing.


	19. Chapter 19: All's Fair

Chapter 19: All's fair...

"Where the bloody hell is my shirt?"

Sasha, clad only in bra and knickers, was searching Severus' sitting-room for her shirt. He reclined lazily against the couch, watching her with considerable appreciation. Her bum bounced in the most appealing way when it was freed from jeans, and her full breasts matched its movements. Of course, Severus knew exactly where her shirt was; it was securely tucked between him and the couch cushions, and there it would stay until she deduced its location. In the meantime, he was admiring the view.

Obviously frustrated, the girl put her hands on her hips. His hands tingled in remembrance of how soft those hips had been under his touch.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"It's midnight. I need to go to bed – _my _bed," she elaborated, sensing rather than seeing his smirk, "and I really don't wish to walk through the corridors half-naked. Where have you put my shirt?" Her eyes were on him now, though she was taking care to stay a little distance from him. The both knew that he could "persuade" her to stay a while longer, and they also both knew that would not do. It was dangerous enough for her to be here this late, but they had decided that perpetually tired Lupin retired early and so would not be searching his map for their whereabouts.

With a long-suffering sigh, Severus reached behind himself and removed the shirt from its hiding place. "You know," he said as he threw it to her, "you could have just Summoned it."

"Oh. Right," she replied vaguely, sliding into the shirt and starting to do up the buttons. Her jeans were lying on the floor near the table; she grabbed them and slid into them. _Well, not exactly _slid, Severus decided as he watched the proceedings. _More like wriggled, squirmed and possibly even shoehorned her way into them._ Not that he had any particular objection to being an audience to that.

"You know," she continued, picking up her wand from the table and making her way to the door, "I almost never do things with magic when they can be done without it. Maybe it's a Muggleborn trait. Magic just isn't my automatic solution for everything. There's a… sort of a worry, I suppose, that if I use it too freely, it'll run out at some point." At the door, she halted with her hand on the handle, head cocked to one side. Severus smirked as he watched her try to remember what was missing.

"_Accio shoes!"_ A pair of worn trainers flew to her, one from the hearth and the other from under the couch he was reclining on. Dismissing shoelaces in favor of brute force, she shoved her feet into them. With a last smile and, "Goodnight, Severus. I'll go looking for trouble on Friday!" she exited, leaving Severus to ponder what constituted "trouble."

* * *

The dungeon corridor was silent as Sasha slipped out of the Potions classroom and shut the door carefully behind her. Even at a quarter to midnight, it paid to be careful, especially when one's clothing and hair were very rumpled.

A smile curled her lips as she remembered exactly how that rumpling had occurred. He was so skilled in the arts of touching and teasing, nothing like the rough fumbling of teenage boys. Her clothes had come off piece by piece, and with each new patch of exposed skin his hands and tongue had gone to work. All the while he had gradually moved her out of the classroom and into his quarters, where they had sunk onto the couch in a mass of entwined limbs. It had taken a bit of persuasion for a few articles of clothing to remain on both of them (she had been all for everything going off), but prudence had won over.

"_After we get the map_," he had murmured in her ear as his hands caressed her skin, making her moan with need. The memory was so intense that she could practically _hear_ her moans, and as it progressed, his moans were added to hers.

The memory of his moans really was remarkably strong; she could have sworn she just heard one…

Her head snapped towards the alcove where the not-Severus-but-still-male moan had come from. Two boys currently occupied it, kissing with a ferocity that nearly matched hers and Severus'. Two discarded ties lay on top of a heap of robes on the floor – one scarlet and gold, the other green and silver.

Normally, she wouldn't have done anything; if they wanted to make out in the halls after curfew without putting up any Repelling Charms or the like, that was their lookout. Filch had a way of knowing exactly where a couple was, as well as an unerring sense of when they would be in the most compromising position; Sasha had had a few unpleasant surprises from the caretaker during the past spring.

But at the moment, she was feeling very sympathetic towards anyone who had to reserve their relationship for after curfew, and so she cast a Silencing Charm over the entrance to the alcove. After a moment, she murmured, "_Avertio," _and felt her eyes slide away from the entwined couple as the Seek-Elsewhere Charm took effect. Smiling to herself, she set off to her dormitory.

Thursday came and went in a haze of daydreams and dull classes; Jas had to prod her to stay alert during Charms, and she dozed off during Divination as Trelawney was predicting imminent injuries for the whole class. She had never really liked Divination that much, not so much for its artificial mystery and glamour, but just the idea of knowing the future. There was simply no point to knowing what the future held; it was going to happen anyway, and you might as well not worry about it in the present.

_Besides, why spend the present pondering the future when I could go over my delicious memories of the recent past?_ she thought, smirking to herself.

Friday morning was a slight improvement; Lupin had somehow got a troll into one of the largest dungeons, and they spent the class figuring out the best way to combat it. Care of Magical Creatures, the last class of the day, was fun as well. Hagrid had apparently run out of dangerous creatures for them to wrangle, so the girls were set to brushing winter mud out of the coats of unicorns while the boys oiled dry patches in thestrals' hides. The simple, physical work was a nice change from watching Hagrid try to actually teach them something, which generally required an immense amount of self-control from the Ravenclaws as they fought their snickers. Still, the class was enjoyable in that the creatures were usually fun to interact with, even when they were trying to eat the students. The unicorns, however, were perfectly friendly and more than happy to stand and eat hay while they were groomed. Sasha, Jas, and the rest of the girls all left considerably dirtier than they had come.

"Mine really seemed to like me," Jas was saying eagerly as they made their way across the lawns. "It kept turning its head around to nuzzle me."

"It recognized a pure spirit," replied Sasha facetiously, holding one hand over her heart and sweeping the other out dramatically.

"Did yours bite you, then?"

Sasha mimed a blow at her laughing friend and started to reply, but something near the lake caught her eye. A large group of students, including the Gryffindors from their class, were grouped up in a semicircle near one of the trees. As the two girls drew closer, they saw what the students were watching.

Five boys were separated from the group; their scarves showed four of them to be Gryffindors and the last as a Slytherin. Two of the former were holding the latter as he struggled against them, apparently trying to get to the Gryffindor who was currently sprawled on the ground. With a jolt, Sasha recognized the couple from the night before. The last boy was Decoste; he was standing in front of the boy on the ground, his wand pointed at him. The air carried his words to the girls.

"…you disgrace the house of Gryffindor! D' you think Harry Potter goes around snogging other boys like some kind of queer? And a _Slytherin?_"

Sharp pain shot through Sasha's palms; she realized her nails were digging into her skin as she clenched her fists. Slowly, she slung her bag onto the ground and tugged off her tie – it wasn't good to have something around your neck while you were in a fight.

"Sasha, _no_. You promised me!" Jas moved to block her, grabbing one of her shoulders. Brown eyes met hers and she saw pleading mixed with anger in them.

"You swore you wouldn't get into any more fights!"

"Jas, _move!_" Sasha growled, tugging out of her friend's grip and ducking under her arm. As she strode across the lawns to where the boys were, she remembered something that had been in the back of her mind all day. Well, if a fight wasn't worthy of detention, nothing was. Hopefully, Severus would hear about it or spot it before another teacher did.

She was closer to Decoste now; he was yelling at the captive Slytherin, something about, "whatever sick stuff you do in the dungeons". Decoste hadn't seen her yet, or if he had, the possibility of her being a threat hadn't occurred to him. Wishing like hell that she was wearing jeans instead of her stupid uniform skirt, Sasha picked up a run, feeling the muddy ground slip a little under her shoes.

Someone yelled a warning to Decoste about three seconds before she rammed into him, sending both of them sprawling into the mud. As she scrambled to her feet, she saw the Slytherin break free of the surprised Gryffindors and sprint towards the castle. But she couldn't focus on him for long; Decoste had got up as well, and was waving the others off with a muddy hand. He looked a mess with mud all over his face and hair, but he managed to retain his cocky attitude as he leveled his wand at her. Abruptly, Sasha remembered her own wand and reached for it, hoping that he was noble (and stupid) enough to let his foe arm herself.

"You know, Cupris, I always knew you were into fighting for the fairies, but for the snakes, too?" he said inquiringly.

"Is it just me, or is the whole 'hate him because he's a Slytherin' thing getting a little old?" she snarled in reply, watching him closely for any sign of what he would do first.

"Well, I remember you liked a different kind of snake well enough last year, so I guess it makes sense-"

Jets of blue light from Sasha's wand forced him to cut off his insult as he dove sideways to avoid them; had they hit him, he would have been encased in ice. She charged in, but was forced back by the small daggers that flew at her. A blaze of pain enveloped her left shoulder and she caught sight of a red stain on her white blouse; one had clipped her. Despite the sting, she grinned like her Patronus. It had been a while since she was in a good fight. With a snarl, she charged back at Decoste.

* * *

Severus stared at his desk, choosing to ignore the pile of essays that needed grading in favor of simply brooding. All day long, he had been in a state of suspense, waiting for a Slytherin to come crying to him that Sasha had hexed them or tripped them or looked cross-eyed at them. Once or twice, he glimpsed her in the halls and hoped that she would drop her books and swear loudly, or hold still long enough for him to accuse her of loitering. His infamous reputation for punishing almost imaginary infractions would serve both of them well at this point, but it did not stretch to him walking up to a student and simply giving her detention. Someone was bound to perceive that as extreme. But as of yet there had been nothing, and he was growing impatient and nervous. Perhaps she was planning some misdeeds during dinner?

The door to his classroom suddenly slammed open, making him jump. Irritated at being surprised, Severus glared at the boy who was striding towards his desk. It was La Forge, a Pureblooded boy whose French ancestry made him a very passionate but surprisingly subtle young man. Right now he was looking rather mussed, and Severus noticed that he was breathing hard, though he was trying to hide it. When he spoke, it was in his usual breathless tumble, but exacerbated by being winded.

"Fight on the lawns, sir - a Gryffindor - thought you should know – by the lake," he puffed. Severus gave the boy a mental nod of approval; romantic though the young man might be, he had no compunctions about turning other people in. He suspected the boy had been engaged in some illicit activity and was trying to elude any possible trouble by playing the dutiful student, but Severus didn't care. At the moment deducting points from Gryffindor sounded like a wonderful use of his time, so he stood and swept out the door, indicating that La Forge should follow him with a jerk of his head.

He spotted the fight first through a window near the entrance hall and he took a moment to take stock of the situation. From a distance, it was hard to make out details, but he saw two figures ducking and dodging down on the grass; colored sparks and lines indicated that hexes were being thrown. A crowd of students partially encircled them, creating a barrier between them and the lake. All in all, it was the standard issue student duel.

Quickly, he set off again, blasting the front doors open with a wave of his wand and taking the stairs two at a time. Behind him, he heard La Forge panting even harder as he tried to keep up. He was almost on the grass when he spotted Lupin approaching from the direction of the greenhouses, walking fast. Clearly, the werewolf had scented trouble. Lupin intercepted Severus' path and joined him without a word. Even though the two men tolerated each other at best, it was an unwritten code amongst teachers that they work together to break up fights. It tended to be the punishing of the fighters that divided them afterwards.

As they drew closer, Severus was able to make out details, and what he saw made anger flare in him. The smaller figure, who had just ploughed into the mud after being blasted off her feet, was none other than Sasha.

"_I'm going looking for trouble Friday afternoon…"_ Evidently, trouble required fisticuffs. Well, if the other fighter (that insufferable Decoste boy, by the look of him) didn't kill her, Severus would.

He had to concede that she was giving a good account of herself. Decoste had approached her as she lay prone on the ground, but with a sweep of her arm she flung a handful of mud into his handsome face and scrambled up as he clawed at his eyes. She must have lost her wand in her fall, for she simply tackled the boy and brought him to the ground with a thud.

The wall of students finally noticed the two teachers coming towards them, and as one they went silent. Severus sneered at them as they tried to look innocent. Quickly, before Lupin could get there, he moved in and grabbed Sasha by her arms, dragging her off the boy. His hands scrabbled at her muddy blouse before he could get a firm grip on her, and it did not help that she was struggling ferociously. A hundred and thirty pounds of angry, slippery, struggling young woman is not an easy thing to keep a hold of, and Severus rapidly rethought his strategy. Coming to a decision, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other around her ribs, effectively pinning her arms to her sides. He did have to bend down a bit to compensate for their height difference, but he had her captured for the time being. Meanwhile, Decoste had got up and was standing next to Lupin, staunching the blood flowing from a split lip while he mumbled what Severus presumed was an explanation.

"Let me go!"

Sasha was fighting him fiercely, struggling against his encircling grasp. There was a snarl of pure loathing etched on her face, its intimidating effect heightened by her black eye and bleeding eyebrow.

"Be still, _Miss Cupris_," he hissed, tightening his hold on her and hoping the impersonal title would relay to her how angry he was. Even so, he was almost yanked off his feet by her efforts a moment later when Decoste's words reached both their ears.

"All because her father is a bent Muggle pouftah with a prancing wizard boyfriend, she goes and attacks me. Look, Professor, he was snogging that La Forge kid from Slytherin, and maybe that little snake put a hex on him or something, I don't know, but I wasn't hurting either of them!"

"You'll pay for that, Decoste!" she shouted, redoubling her struggles the point where Severus was rather concerned about whether he could retain his grasp.

"Lupin, will you kindly remove that boy?" he asked with dangerous civility. "It would appear that he is aggravating the situation, and Miss Cupris is stronger than she looks. Be _still!_" he added, directing the command towards her.

"_Get off of me!"_

Severus had had enough. "As you wish," he snarled, and relinquished his hold on her. At the sudden loss of resistance to her force, she stumbled forward, but before she could recover, he drew his wand and thought, _Levicorpus._ Her yelp as she was yanked into the air by her ankles was extremely satisfying, as was the resulting view of her legs and knickers. A muted ripple of laughter went through the crowd, but a glance from him quelled it instantly. Some of the more intelligent students decided the time was ripe for a quiet exit, and they began to split off from the group, heading for the castle.

"Don't bother trying to hide your knickers, Cupris, they're nothing everyone hasn't seen already!" Decoste was grinning like the Kneazle that ate the Snidget at the sight of the young woman trying in vain to hold her skirt up. Severus had to exert great self-control to stop himself from finishing what Sasha started; even so, he found his wand pointed at the boy.

"That will do, Gavin," said Lupin sharply. "Come. I wish to speak with you." Though he was normally a very mild man, Severus was reminded of how intense he could be when he was angry. It was quiet anger that simmered under the surface and was rarely released, but it always made itself known.

With the departure of Lupin, the rest of the students vanished, and Severus was left staring at his lover, who was hanging upside-down in midair, incoherent with rage.


	20. Chapter 20: Confrontations

Chapter 20

"You- you-!" Sasha tried to think of some appropriately cutting epithet to throw at Severus, but anger overrode her usually large vocabulary and narrowed it down to one word. "You _git!"_

"Well, I suppose in light of recent events, such a mundane insult is the best I can expect from you," he said, sneering at her attempts to get down. "After all, _brawlers_ are not known for their rapier wit. Speaking of brawling," he continued, "fifty points from Ravenclaw."

"_Fifty?_"

"More can be arranged if you are dissatisfied with that number," he said in his most dangerous voice. "Now, kindly remain where you are whilst I remove the mud you so generously deposited on my robes." For the first time, Sasha noticed that his usually immaculate black robes were absolutely filthy, as was she; however, he did not offer to clean her robes once he had finished _Scourgifying_ his own. On top of being filthy and in a load of trouble, Sasha was beginning to get a headache from being upside down.

His robes now sufficiently cleansed, Sasha found Severus regarding her with considerable ire in his black eyes. From her topsy-turvy vantage point, she saw one booted toe begin to tap, very slowly, and it was no less ominous on muddy ground than it was on the stone floor of his classroom. A tapping toe from him had been known to reduce first-years to quivering wrecks, and though it was unlikely to affect her that strongly, it certainly elucidated the fact that he was extremely angry with her.

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Sasha."

An explanation? Had the situation not been clear? "Decoste was tormenting those boys!" she snapped. "What was I supposed to do, walk away?"

"You are expected to handle such situations in a mature and intelligent manner!" he snarled. For the first time, he seemed to notice her red face; with a flick of his wand, she felt the invisible hoist on her ankles vanish half a moment before she was reacquainted with the muddy lawn. It took a while for the blood to exit her head and return to the rest of her body, but she staggered to her feet when she felt she could and faced Severus with as much dignity as she had left.

"I was angry, all right?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Evidently, this was not an acceptable reason for tackling a fellow student, even if he was the world's biggest arse. Despite herself, Sasha shrank back a bit as Severus exploded.

"_Angry? _You were angry and so you attacked him like a common barroom brawler? You are an adult by our laws, Sasha, and as such you are generally expected to use words, and at the worst, a few hexes to deal with a situation; but no, you felt it necessary to show your anger in a more direct way like some _Muggle_ street fighter. Are you under the erroneous impression that it somehow makes you a martyr or a hero of some sort to behave that way?"

"No!" she retorted, staring at him in shock. "I wasn't thinking, Severus. That often happens when someone makes me mad, and Decoste made me about as mad as I have ever been! That's just how I deal with it." Even as she spoke those defiant words, her gaze lowered to the ground, and she blinked back sudden tears. Severus wasn't the only one who was angry at her for this; she knew Jas was going to be, if possible, even more irate, because Sasha had broken her promise not to fight.

Long fingers slid under her chin and forced her to look up, gripping her jaw almost painfully. The black eyes that she looked into were narrowed with anger, but she thought there was something else there, something she couldn't quite put a name to.

"I never want to hear of you starting a fight again. I don't care if you find Decoste trying to bring the Dark Lord back from the dead; you are to proceed in the logical, sensible manner I know you are capable of." His voice was quiet again, but it always seemed to have more force when it was like that, and Sasha nodded as much as she was able to with his hand around her chin. Seeing her assent, he released her and stepped back, crossing his arms again.

"Detention is on Sunday at two o'clock, Sasha, and when I say 'detention,' I mean it." With that, he turned on his heel and strode back towards the castle, leaving Sasha to stare after him and hope like hell that she hadn't just ruined everything. Was he mad enough to end their relationship? Something told her that he wasn't; it was that unidentifiable emotion in his eyes that gave her hope.

Still, with Severus Snape, you could never be sure.

Miserable and angry, Sasha trudged across the lawns, into Hogwarts and through the winding corridors to Ravenclaw Tower. After sullenly answering the door's query ("Explain why this wall does not exist." "What bloody wall?" "Crude, but acceptable." "Sod you."), she entered the common room to find Jas sitting in one of the armchairs. She looked up as Sasha entered. Their eyes met briefly, before Jas stood and pushed past Sasha to the door, leaving her alone and wondering if she had really screwed up this time.

_I shouldn't have broken that promise about fighting... but damn it, Jas knows what I'm like! How could she expect me not to do something?_

It was a stupid promise to make in the first place, she realized. It was one that she could never have kept. Sasha hugged herself for a moment and stared into the fireplace, watching the flames devour the logs. Despite the warmth, she shivered, suddenly remembering that she was muddy and wet. Hopefully, a long, hot shower would help her think through how she was going to handle the next couple of days.

The hot water felt wonderful on her skin; she leaned against the cool tiles, wincing as one of her new bruises made contact with the wall. Careful prodding revealed that the black eye was tender and painful, and that the cut in her eyebrow has stopped bleeding. She debated healing them for a minute, then decided that she deserved a bit of pain for the next couple of days

* * *

Mud was splattering over his boots and soaking into the hem of his robes, but right then Severus didn't care. Currently, his emotions were more roiled than the lake during a storm, and most of his mind was dedicated to sorting them out so he could get them under control.

Mainly he was angry: angry at Sasha, angry at Decoste, angry at Lupin... angry at himself. Angry at a memory that had resurfaced as he gazed at her, upside down and spitting mad; a memory of another woman who had come to someone's defense down by the lake, only that time it had been he who was suspended in midair. That young woman, whose face had almost been obscured from his dreams by Sasha's. The only other woman he had ever been concerned about; for that was the other emotion wrenching at him, trying to fight its way out with words he had managed to hold back as he shouted at Sasha.

_You could have been hurt._ That was why he was so angry - just the memory of her black eye and bleeding eyebrow brought another surge through his veins. The injuries could have been much worse, and he knew that a wound inflicted upon her would hurt him as well. And he had only ever thought that about Lily, and now Lily was dead and he could not help but make a connection between the two, even as his mind told him it was ridiculous; there was no war, no Voldemort - no one was going to kill Sasha because of a prophecy.

Forcefully, he shook the idea from his mind and continued towards his quarters, where a large bottle of firewhisky and an armchair awaited him. He spent the rest of the day holed up in his rooms, chasing images of Sasha lying, bleeding, on the Hogwarts lawns out of his mind with the liquor and finally falling into a restless sleep full of disturbing dreams where Sasha and Lily fought each other.

Saturday passed in blissful dreariness. Nothing out of the ordinary happened; he woke up, drank a Hangover Cure, and after breakfast, made his way to London and bought the valerian. Originally, he had meant to do that on Friday, but in his bout of sulking, he had forgotten. The rest of the day was spent, yet again, in his dungeons, experimenting with the herb and mentally preparing himself for the next day. Dealing with her was going to be tricky - he certainly meant this to be as close to a detention as he could make it, rather than the enjoyable day of experiments and trysts that they had looked forward to. He fully expected Sasha to come in with an apology, or at least some attempt at mollifying him, on her lips, but he was not a man who forgave easily, no matter who it was who had wronged. It would take more than the banal apologies that other people were content with to really appease him. That night, his dreams were full of various ways in which she could show her contrition; he knew her too well to think that any of them would occur, but a man could dream, albeit with a cold shower the next morning to bring him back to reality.

At five minutes to two on Sunday afternoon, there was a firm knock upon the door of his classroom. His usual greeting of "Enter!" rose to his lips, but Severus stopped himself, regarding the door with a smirk. After all, he had told her two o'clock, not five till, and he was nothing if not a stickler for punctuality. Stewing in the corridor for five minutes would do her no harm. Thus decided, he returned his attention to the cauldron he was working on, ignoring the two rounds of increasingly harder knocks on the door that followed the first.

When the clock chimed two, he strode to the door and opened it somewhat dramatically to find Sasha leaning against the opposite wall; if looks were _Crucio_s, he would have been writhing in agony on the ground.

"I did say two o'clock, Sasha, not five till," he quipped, answering her indignant look. "Just be thankful you were not late."

She marched past him without a word, her back stiff with annoyance. Severus smirked to himself and followed her, shutting and warding the door behind him. When he turned back, he found her blocking the aisle between the desks, her arms crossed and feet planted, glaring up at him with determination.

"Let's get something straight, Severus. This _detention_ is a detention in name only. It is going to go on the record books because we need to keep us appearances. However," she continued, ignoring the snarl etched on his face, "it is nothing to do with your current mood regarding me."

"Excuse me?" he said, staring at her. He really had no idea what she was implying; as far as he was concerned, it had everything to do with how he felt.

"You can't punish me academically or otherwise for issues we have. Detentions, point deductions, grades - none of that can be affected by our problems."

"You broke the rules -," he began

One hand came up, halting his sentence. "I know and I understand. But you can't take points from Ravenclaw just because I've annoyed you in some way; likewise, I won't give you problems in front of students or staff because you've pissed me off."

He glared at her, trying to find some fault in her logic, but he couldn't. It made sense; even his corkscrew thinking couldn't find a problem in it. Random point deductions would tip people off to something odd going on, as would unusual obstreperousness on her part. "Fine," he snapped, pushing past her to reach the cauldrons he had set up. He heard a sigh escape her, but she didn't continue her harangue.

It was a tense beginning to a long afternoon. What few words they spoke to each other were terse and clipped, and they only spoke when it was absolutely necessary. For six hours they tested various combinations of valerian and Wolfsbane, duly informing the other as to whether or not each one worked. There was only one combination that was spectacular in its failure - Sasha tried dried, powdered valerian added to the potion on high heat; the resulting flames singed her eyebrows and blackened her face, much to Severus' amusement.

At long last they found something that worked - essence of vervain, added slowly and stirred continuously produced notes of lavender mingled with the scent of Wolfsbane. Severus nodded to show his satisfaction and the two of them set about cleaning up. At no point during that chore did they speak to each other or brush against each other. It was only when there was nothing left to clean that she finally looked him in the eye, her arms crossed over her chest. Severus leaned back against his desk, waiting for her apology.

"I... am not sorry for getting into that fight," she stated firmly, jutting her chin out slightly to emphasize her defiance. Before Severus could make a rather angry reply, she continued.

"Decoste was being a bullying git, and that was simply how I dealt with it. I don't plan on regretting what I did, unless..." Her voice trailed off.

"Unless what?" he snapped. This was not what he had expected at all; she was clearly not repentant, even after mulling the matter over for two days. He was fully prepared to give her a tongue-lashing to match the one he had meted out on Friday, but what she said next stopped him.

"Unless it makes you end this. Us."

There was nearly a minute of silence, during which time she stared unerringly into his eyes and, he frantically tried to think of something to say. But how could he say what he needed? By no means did he want to end their relationship - how could she believe he would, after he spent six hours trying to find a way to protect it? - but at the same time, he was still angry with her.

"Severus?"

His name on her lips broke his thoughts, and he brought his attention back to her eyes, which, he saw with alarm, were ominously bright. Sasha must have taken his silence as meaning that he did want to end it. It was somehow heartening to know that there was one person to whom the thought of Severus not wanting them was upsetting, but at the same time, he needed to allay her fears.

"Do you really think me so petty a man as to end what we have for such a minor infraction?" he said quickly, folding his arms in subconscious self-defense.

The relief in her voice was plain. "No. At least, I hoped you weren't, but... I wasn't sure." Hesitantly, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his sternum; he allowed himself a brief moment of warmth and intimacy before he firmly pushed her off.

"I have spent years ensuring that people are never sure about me," he said. "And I am still very vexed with you, so don't think that all is well."

Her blonde queue bounced as she nodded her head, the barest hint of a smile pulling at her lips. "So what now?" she asked, changing the subject with her usual bluntness. "When do we drug Lupin and get the map?"

"_ 'We_?_'_" he replied delicately, arching an eyebrow at her. "_I_ will be both administering the drug and retrieving the map. You are not going near a transformed werewolf as long I draw breath."

"Two people would be better than one - even if he does wake up, having two people to fight would be harder for him."

"I am more than capable of dealing with a drowsy werewolf on my own."

"I never said you weren't. Just that having both of us there is a good idea."

He glared at her, but he knew it was pointless - even the first time he met her, she had not quailed under his eyes. "You will remain in my office, then, and in the extremely unlikely case that I should need assistance, I will floo you. Are you content with that?" he snapped.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You made your choice on New Years."

That got a laugh from her; a rich, hearty laugh with her head thrown back and her shoulders shaking. "I asked for it, I suppose," she said, sobering slightly to regard him again with those wonderful green eyes. "But then again, Severus, so did you."

* * *


	21. Chapter 21: Cry Wolf

**AN: Hi everyone who's still reading this story! Thank you so much for your lovely reviews and your patience with my updates. I have a lot going on at the moment (including my other WIP) so updates are few and far between. Hopefully I'll pick up the pace a bit once summer starts. **

Chapter 21: Cry Wolf

_Full moon on Friday… full moon on Friday…_ The phrase kept going through Sasha's head, a mantra that distracted her from academics and social activities and left her staring at windows and walls. There was nothing to take her mind off the plan – or Plan, as it seemed to her – as Jas was still not speaking to her and not even the most interesting book held her attention for more than a few minutes. Mealtimes were hell; it took every ounce of self-control she had not to stare at either Severus or Lupin. Only in Potions could she focus at all, using Severus' proximity to boost her determination.

In this manner, the week dragged by until _finally_ it was Friday. Lupin wasn't in class that day, which made her heart soar, although it shot her concentration all to hell, resulting in her getting hexed several times. After dinner, she sat in the common room, pretending to read until the room had emptied. Severus had sworn that he wouldn't leave until she arrived, but it was still agonizing to sit and wait for the room to empty.

When the last couple of third years trailed off to bed, Sasha couldn't help but do a little jig of happiness even as she Disillusioned herself and shot through the door at top speed. It was hard not to run, but she knew that she couldn't risk Filch hearing her footsteps, so she took off her shoes and padded along as quietly as she could.

She doubted if any student had ever been as happy as she was to reach the door to Severus' classroom, nor as elated when he yanked it open and glared at her (or, rather, at the area where he suspected she was).

"What took you so long?" he complained as she swiftly moved inside and took off the spell. The door clicked shut behind her and she turned to find him leaning against it, arms folded.

"There were stupid third years playing Gobstones in the common room," she replied. "I got here as quickly as I could."

He snorted softly, but it didn't seem to have much malice behind it. Besides, she had learned not to take most of what he said to her personally. It was just how he was.

He was also incredibly sexy, and she was reminded that they hadn't so much as held gazes since Sunday. Apparently, Severus was thinking the same thing, for he moved towards her exactly when she moved towards him; they met in the middle in a lip-bruising kiss, hands roaming over each other's bodies in a frenzy. As usual, it was he who broke away first, firmly removing her hands from where they had ended up. A whimper of disappointment and frustration escaped her lips, making him smirk.

"Later, little succubus. I need my blood to be in my brain for this job." She glared at him, which only got her a reproving stare before he swept toward the door that led to his rooms. Still a little weak-kneed from their kiss, she followed.

Severus was in the sitting-room when she entered, and Sasha noticed with some amusement that he had placed himself behind the couch, ensuring that it remained between her and him. Had the situation been less serious, she probably would have simply climbed over it to get at him, but now was not the time, so she found a spot across from him to stand.

"Now," he began, "I am simply going to walk to Lupin's office, get the map, and come back. It should take no longer than twenty minutes. However, should it take longer than that, you are to _remain here_ unless I Floo you for assistance. Is that clear, Sasha?"

It was because he cared; she knew that, but it didn't stop the commands from grating at her a bit. To cover her irritation, she decided to nod rather than speak, since she would probably end up snapping at him and arousing his suspicions. From the line that appeared between his eyebrows, he didn't like her silence, but he did not press her for a verbal affirmation of obedience. "Good," was all he said in response, before he turned and headed back towards the door. Sasha unconsciously took a step towards him, one hand reaching out as she opened her mouth to say something supportive, but he cut her off before she could start.

"And if you even _think_ the phrase 'Be careful,' I will come back here when this task is complete and give you cause to regret it." Black eyes with a wicked glint in them looked back at her over his shoulder, raking up and down her body as he stepped outside and shut the door.

Sasha had to sit down after that.

* * *

Once safely in the corridor, out of reach of seductive hands and plush curves, Severus leaned against the door for a minute, centering himself. He needed to focus on the task at hand; of course, he was taking every precaution and they had planned every detail, but it was still a delicate mission. Closing his eyes, he used his Occlumency training to block out images of Sasha, building mental walls around them until his mind was free of her intoxicating presence. It wasn't easy – their earlier embrace had left traces of her perfume on his clothes; every time it reached his nostrils, he had to work twice as hard against the visions of her that appeared. When his mind was finally clear, he cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and set off through the halls to Lupin's office, silently reviewing the plan in his mind.

All told, it was fairly straightforward. He had given Lupin the altered Wolfsbane, telling him that he had made some adjustments to ease the pain of transformation, and adding that he might feel a little drowsy. The werewolf hadn't so much as blinked at that news. Now, all Severus had to do was get into Lupin's office, acquire the map, and get out, all without waking the werewolf. Sasha had pressed him to Floo her at the first sign of trouble, but he was disinclined to obey that command, as he had no intention of putting her in danger. Come to that, he had little intention of putting himself in danger.

He reached Lupin's door unnoticed, although there had been a tense moment when Peeves swooped out of nowhere and stared directly at the area where Severus was, tossing a cream pie from hand to hand. A flick of his wand created murmuring voices down a nearby corridor; the poltergeist had sped off to see what mischief he could make, leaving Severus to quickly flee the area before the devilish specter caught on. However, no further incidents had occurred.

Now the plan began in earnest. To ensure that Lupin didn't hear anything Severus did, he slid his wand through the keyhole and murmured, _"Muffliato."_ He waited a moment, and then set to work disarming the wards that were set on the door during every full moon. They were not difficult; after all, they only had to block a werewolf from getting out and students from getting in, so they presented little challenge to Severus. When the last one dissipated, he quietly opened the door and slid inside, quickly scanning the room to get his bearings.

The desk and chair had not moved from their usual positions, nor had the cages of creatures shifted at all. Curled up on a shag rug in front of a roaring fire was a large wolf with a tufted tail, sound asleep: Lupin. Carefully, Severus eased the door shut, watching the wolf intently for the slightest sign of wakefulness.

Not an ear twitched, even when the latch clicked softly.

_Excellent. That worked. Now, where does he keep that blasted map?_ There seemed to be only one logical answer to that question: the desk. Unfortunately, he would have to pass by the wolf in order to access the drawers of the desk. Moving as slowly as possible, Severus edged across the room, never taking his eyes off Lupin. As he passed the fire, he realized that it was very warm in the office; he felt the gentle tickle of perspiration forming on his brow. All the more reason to get out quickly.

There were six drawers in the desk, three on each side of the chair. All of them were locked. Glaring at them, Severus lifted his wand and prepared to _Alohomora_ his way to success when he heard… snuffling. Shifting. Coming from the fireplace.

Hardly daring to breathe, Severus turned and saw Lupin raising his head drowsily, sniffing the air as he got to his paws. A few more sniffs and a pair of brown eyes were glaring in his direction and he heard the beginnings of a growl as the hair on Lupin's back went up.

As he stared at the now-snarling werewolf, a phrase borrowed from Sasha ran through Severus' head.

_Oh, bugger._

* * *

Swirling chocolate filled Sasha's vision as she stirred feverishly. She had Flooed the kitchens and ordered the makings for chocolate fondue – a reward for when Severus came back. The dark liquid was now steaming in a cauldron, with the smallest of flames beneath it. On the table was a plate of strawberries, pound cake, and sliced bananas (she had debated leaving the bananas whole, but decided that might be a little too vulgar for Severus' tastes). In the center of the treats was a pomegranate, split in two to reveal all its blood red seeds.

Idly, she wiped some sweat off her upper lip, smiling as she smelled her perfume. Severus loved the rich scent of it, and she would have to ask Tristan to get his friend to make more of it. That large, strong nose was very discerning, and he had named many of the undertones in the scent one day as he nuzzled her wrists and neck.

_Scent… nose…_ Something about those words was nagging at her, like a word that she couldn't quite find. She stopped stirring for a minute, staring at the chocolate as she thought.

_Perfume… smell…werewolf…WEREWOLF!_

In a rush, their mistake came to her and she swore a blue streak in the air as she dropped the ladle into the chocolate and fled to the fireplace. With a flick of her wand, she Disillusioned herself again, figuring it wouldn't hurt. The small bowl of Floo powder tipped over when she frantically grabbed a handful of the stuff; green powder spilled over the mantel, but she didn't care at the moment. She flung the powder into the fire, watched as the flames roared green before stepping in and yelling, "Lupin's office!" Suddenly, she was spinning very fast; it felt like she was being sucked into a drain, except that it was a drain that went up. Sooty stone walls flashed past her eyes and she caught glimpses of various fireplaces, including one that looked like the Ravenclaw common room.

Just as she was starting to think that she had made some dreadful mistake, she came to an abrupt stop and toppled forward onto what felt like a shag rug. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet and then looked at her surroundings.

The first thing that caught her eye was a large wolf that was looking towards her over his shoulder, ears pricked and hackles up. She couldn't see Severus, but from the way the wolf's body was aligned, she could guess he was near the desk.

She blurted out, "Perfume-!" a second before she heard Severus' voice do the same. Silently, she cursed their stupidity. This one bloody oversight could unravel the entire plan.

"Lupin can't hear us – only smell us." Hearing her lover's disembodied voice coming from behind the desk was unnerving, but the steady tone assured her that he was unhurt. Slowly, she eased herself along the wall, moving towards the door, since Lupin was between Severus and the fireplace. A rattling sound came from the desk, and she saw what looked like a piece of ratty parchment appear from behind it, floating in midair at the right height for Severus to be holding it.

The problem was, Lupin noticed it, too. His ears went flat against his skull and he snarled; Sasha saw the muscles in his legs tense, like he was preparing to leap. The parchment stopped moving abruptly. There the three of them stood, each one waiting for one of the others to make a move and start some chain reaction from the other two.

"Go! Now! I will take care of this." Severus' voice was sharp and curt as he snapped out his commands; accompanying them was his wand, appearing in midair, leveled at Lupin. The werewolf snarled, but didn't move, eyes fixed on the wand.

It would be so easy to leave and just let Severus handle Lupin, probably with a Stunner followed by a Memory Charm. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor need never know that a colleague and a student had burgled his office, and she and Severus would be free of watchful eyes.

She couldn't bring herself to move. It wasn't the way Ravenclaws did things. You learned from your mistakes, but you didn't take them out on other people in the process. She and Severus had messed up, but that wasn't Lupin's fault. They were the ones breaking innumerable rules, not him.

"No," she said, as clearly as she could. The parchment and the wand jerked slightly, as though their bearer had tensed in surprise, and then shifted position slightly.

"What do you mean, _no?_ Don't you want to walk the halls knowing that no one watches your movements? Are we not both being threatened by a werewolf?" Confusion and annoyance laced his tone, and she winced a little. She knew it wasn't entirely the plan that made Severus say that; he hated Lupin, for whatever reason, and an excuse to hex the hell out of him was like an early Christmas.

Well, that was the difference between a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin.

"No. There's another way. _Accio Map!" _The roll of parchment was yanked from the invisible hand that held it; she caught it in midair and then looked up to see Lupin gazing at her fixedly. No longer did the snarl curl his lips; rather, he looked at her with the steady, penetrating gaze she associated with her professor. Slowly, Sasha reached behind her and groped until she found the doorknob, turning it carefully until she felt it click. Rather than opening it immediately, she stood quietly and said, "Come on, love. Let's leave Professor Lupin alone. We got what we came for."

There was another long moment of silence, and then she heard the familiar tap of Severus' boots on flagstones, coming towards her. The edges of his robes brushed her side as he passed; she heard him stop just outside the door. Throughout this, Lupin had not moved, only watched her intently with those intense brown eyes. They continued to bore into her as she sidled through the door and shut it firmly.

She stood there for a moment, hand still on the doorknob, trembling as she regained enough sense for fear to take over. _I was just in a room with a fully transformed werewolf… Bloody hell. _

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, roughly pushing her aside. Muttered words in Severus' voice emanated from a point in front of the door; the air shimmered a little, waves of light coming from the tip of his wand and seeping into the wood. There was another pause before she heard his booted footsteps begin again, heading towards the dungeons. Sasha quickly followed, trying not to fall too far behind.

The walk back to Severus' quarters seemed to take forever. She felt like she was following some phantom to her doom in a Muggle horror movie.

Finally, _finally_, they reached the door that led directly to his rooms, rather than going through the classroom. The air shook for a moment, becoming blurred, and then Severus appeared in front of the door, looking very tense and irritated. Sasha followed suit, removing the charm. He didn't look at her once she was visible, only opened the door and swept through ahead of her.

After entering, Sasha looked to see Severus standing in the center of the room, back to her, arms folded. He turned when the latch clicked, and Sasha had to resist the urge to retreat a few steps; he looked furious.

"You little _fool."_ His voice was dangerously quiet, the last word little more than a hiss. Slowly, he advanced on her, glaring into her eyes as though he was trying to read something printed on the back of her skull.

"You _idiot._ You brazen, foolhardy, devil-may-care _idiot._" He was right in front of her at this point, forcing her to crane her neck back to look at him. She was more frightened of him right then than she had ever been. Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders in a viselike grip, fingers digging into her flesh so hard that she was positive there would be bruises. For a second he stood there, staring at her with an almost wild look in his eyes, holding on to her shoulders like they were lifelines.

And then he pulled her against his chest in an embrace so tight she could barely breathe.


	22. Chapter 22: Forever Winter

Chapter 22: Forever Winter

_She could have been killed, or bitten, or mauled_… A dozen macabre visions of what could have happened to Sasha flew through Severus' mind as he held her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head. This was what happened when you started caring about women; they always went and did something dangerous. Some of them even got themselves killed.

"Severus?"

Her voice was small and muffled, coming as it did from her position, pressed against his chest. He ignored her for the moment, staring at the floor beyond her while the adrenaline flowed through his bloodstream and he tried to block out the various images of blood and screams that were going through his head.

"Severus, I need air."

It occurred to him that suffocating Sasha as he held her protectively and pondered all the ways she could have died would be the universe's ultimate joke on him, so he released her, albeit reluctantly, and stepped away, sinking down onto the couch. She remained standing, looking at him with mixture of amazement and apprehension in her eyes. Silence prevailed for a minute as he glared at her, watching her grow more and more uncomfortable under his angry gaze.

"So," he said, "you have decided to switch houses and become a brave, moronic Gryffindor. I wish you well of it."

"_Moronic?"_ she snapped, raising one eyebrow in imitation of him. "Because I remembered that my perfume would have transferred to you and came to make sure you were all right?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared right back at him.

"I told you to stay here unless I Flooed you for assistance –"

"-which only works until a werewolf corners you on the opposite side of a room from the fireplace-,"

She had a point there, but he was damned if he would cede this argument in any way. "When there is a set plan, Sasha, all involved in it must perform the tasks allotted to them."

"What is this, a war campaign? Should I get you a general's hat? We've already discussed you giving me orders, Severus, and came to an agreement about it. New information cropped up and I used my judgment. If you want to go back to Lupin's office and work your way out on your own, fine. I'll go fix the fondue, which is probably burned." With that, she turned and strode over to a small cauldron in the corner that he had not noticed; a thick, dark sludge was inside it, and he suddenly realized that a scent of burnt chocolate pervaded the room. Brushing a lock of hair out of her face, Sasha glared into the cauldron, then pulled out her wand and began to mutter while making stirring motions in midair. Slowly, he saw the muddy mess liquefy and glisten, reverting to the creamy texture it was supposed to have.

It smelled absolutely divine.

Trying to ignore the tantalizing scent, Severus stood up and declared, "Had you not arrived, dealing with Lupin would have meant a few simple spells. It probably would have been easier." Final words still ringing in the air, he stalked over to the door to the bedroom and entered, shutting it firmly and warding it. Once he was securely inside, he leaned against the door and began a silent countdown. _Three, two, one…_

Footsteps, coming towards the door. "Severus, come out of there. Honestly, you're acting like a child. You can't go off and sulk every time I piss you off, or we won't get anything done."

_Now you insult me. What a wonderful strategy for reconciliation._ Shifting his weight to lean more comfortably against the stone wall, he listened and waited.

An exasperated sigh came from the other side of the door, and he could picture her clearly: arms across her chest, feet planted in that butch little stance of stubbornness that was endearing when used on someone else and vexing when used on him. She was more than smart enough not to try to force the door open, which made the situation all the more amusing; her natural reaction would be to throw everything she had at it, furniture included.

"Fine. Stay in there and be a grumpy bastard. I guess I'll have to eat the fondue all by myself, then." He heard retreating footsteps and then silence. If she thought she could punish him like a child and take away his dessert, she had another thing coming. Of course, with direct force not being an option, she was probably now putting her considerable mind to forming another strategy, which made him slightly apprehensive.

"Mmmm… I do make a good fondue, if I do say so myself." This was followed by some vague sucking and slurping noises, as of someone carefully removing the chocolate from a strawberry and then eating the fruit with considerable gusto.

_Nice try._ A man of his considerable willpower was not going to be moved by as pathetic a seduction attempt as that.

"Whoops."

His apprehension grew slightly.

"I guess the spell thinned the chocolate a little… Why did it have to drip all down my chest, though?" All this was said casually, in the tone of someone talking to themselves, secure in the knowledge that no one else was around. That didn't stop thoughts of chocolate-coated Sasha from floating through Severus' mind, which he effectively counteracted by thinking of Hagrid.

"Damn, it's on my bra, too."

In a bikini.

"Oh, well, I guess I'll just Scourgify it. Waste of chocolate, but there's plenty more." A long pause followed this, during which Severus tried in vain to make out any sort of noise coming from the other room.

"Oh, bugger. That wasn't supposed to happen."

More silence.

"How do you un-vanish a bra?"

There was, Severus reflected as he unwarded the door and yanked it open, only so much a man could be expected to resist, and strawberry-eating, chocolate-coated, bra-less Sasha was about his limit.

* * *

_Usually, suggestive sentences are used to get a man _into_ the bedroom, not out of it…_ Sasha thought, as she saw the doorknob turn and watched the door fly open to reveal Severus. It was remarkable how he could be scowling ferociously and still be looking at her like she was made of chocolate, rather than wearing a bit of it. His black eyes raked from her face down to her chest, where she had carefully ladled some of the fondue down her cleavage, after unbuttoning her shirt a bit; he licked his lips.

"Come here," he said, voice husky and commanding. Even as a shiver went down her spine, Sasha resolved not to take one step towards him until a few more things had been worked out.

"What's the magic word?" she replied.

"_Now."_

"Wrong!" she said, in her best game show host imitation. "The correct answer was 'I'm sorry.' Please try again!"

For a moment, it looked like he might go back into the bedroom; his muscles tensed at her impudence, and his eyes narrowed. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and shut the bedroom door behind him. There they stood, glaring at each other from across the room, for almost a full minute. Sasha was determined not to speak first; she wanted him to speak without being prompted, which he finally did.

"Sasha, I… may have overreacted."

"How many times do we need to have this discussion, Severus?" she said, quietly. "I'm not made of china. I occasionally put myself into dangerous situation when I feel it's necessary. I appreciate that you care, but if you could do so less… forcefully, it would make both our lives easier."

He snorted, but there was no venom behind it, and she knew she had won this battle. It was not in his nature to apologize, and she knew better than to expect groveling and tears from him; truth to tell, she didn't really mind, as long as she got her point across somehow.

"Now," she continued, reaching for a strawberry and dipping it into the chocolate, "do you have a handkerchief I could use to get this chocolate off?"

A corner of his mouth twitched and he moved over to her, never releasing her gaze. Gently, he grabbed her wrists with one of his large hands, using the other one to unbutton her shirt as he guided her onto the couch and knelt in front of her.

"I do not have a handkerchief, unfortunately. However, I think I may have an alternate solution…" Now he had one of her wrists in each hand, pushing them back to the couch as he lowered his head and began to enthusiastically clean the chocolate from her bare chest. She moaned at the touch of his tongue, and she heard him chuckle wickedly.

It took fifteen minutes for them to make their way to the bedroom, as they were impeded by trying to disrobe while not breaking contact with each other. But the bed was still there when they fell into it, entwined about each other, and it remained there until they fell asleep, much later, both very satisfied.

* * *

_Lily was there, clutching a baby to her chest that he knew to be Harry. The laughter filled the air; that cold, high pitched cackle that he knew so well. It still filled him with fear, though now he was more afraid for Lily than himself. He turned towards the laughter, raising his wand and preparing to give his life for the woman he loved._

_Sasha was there, laughing, with her wand pointed at Lily. The laugh was no longer high pitched; now it was her low, throaty laugh that, even at that moment, made his pulse race and his loins ache. He could not bring himself to hex her, although it could mean his and Lily's deaths, and so he braced himself for the curse he knew would fly from her wand, shutting his eyes tightly and simply yelling-_

"No!"

He was in bed, bolt upright, breathing hard from terror and confusion as adrenaline surged through his veins. This was one of the worse dreams about Sasha and Lily that he had had recently; never before had the scene from the Potters' house been replayed like that. Shaking, he ran a hand over his brow and found he was pouring sweat.

Arms encircled him suddenly, and he tried to fight them off, but they only tightened around him; when he felt soft hair brush his back and a soft, warm body press against him, he forced himself to relax. It was Sasha, comforting him in the best way – without clichéd words of comfort. She didn't ask him what the dream was about, or tell him that it was only a dream; instead, she just held him. Gradually, he calmed, but she did not loosen her embrace; it was as if she was trying to hold him together with her arms, lest he shatter.

He didn't recognize the simple tune she started singing; it felt like a lullaby, but it was no lullaby he knew of (not that he had an enormous knowledge of such things).

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise._"

She continued singing for a while; the verses changed little, staying on the theme of some poor blackbird who needed to see and fly. Before he drifted off, still in her arms, he made a mental note to find out where she got these wondrously apt songs that she seemed to pull out every time he was vulnerable; they were rather remarkable.

And the last thing he did before sleep took him was bid Lily Evans a silent good-bye.

They woke early the next morning; or rather, he woke early and persuaded her, with a combination of kisses and prods, to get out of bed. She did not make it easy, as there were a number of extremely pleasant reasons for them to stay in bed, and she groggily attempted to demonstrate some of them. _Minx_, he thought as she finally planted her feet on the floor and groped her way to the bathroom, plump bum wiggling as she shuffled. When she returned, he had two cups of coffee ready and waiting and she gulped hers down like a gambler drinking Felix Felicis.

They were silent as they dressed and made their way through the dungeons and into the entrance hall; she smiled at him before departing for Ravenclaw Tower, presumably to change her clothes and make up some excuse for not being there when everyone else woke up. Resisting the insane urge to smile all the way to the Great Hall, Severus contented himself with replaying some of the previous nights more enjoyable moments. He was rudely interrupted in the middle of a very nice one by none other than Lupin, who had appeared out of a side corridor with scarcely a whisper. He thought his heart would stop when the other man spoke.

"Good morning, Severus." Lupin's tone was as mild and calm as ever, with no trace of suspicion or anger to suggest he remembered anything from the previous night.

"Is it?" Severus replied, careful to use his normal tone of extreme dislike and not actually look at Lupin. "I wasn't aware." That was it. No mention of last night, no wry comments about how he had slept… just the usual morning nonsense. They didn't say a word all the way up to the Head Table; Lupin spent breakfast talking to Flitwick and said nothing when Severus all but inhaled his food and left quickly.

Sasha passed Severus in the entrance hall as he exited the Great Hall; there was nothing they could really do, as she was with Hustons, but they managed to lock glances for a moment.

"Severus-,"

"_Wha_- Lupin!" Severus turned on the other man, snarling in irritation at being snuck up on again. "Why do you insist on stalking up on people?"

"Sorry, Severus," he replied, smiling a little. "I've been meaning to tell you-," Swiftly, he reached out and plucked something from the sleeve of Severus' robes; it was invisible until the light caught it.

"Not one of yours, I think." Lupin surveyed the long, golden strand for a moment before meeting Severus' eyes with the same penetrating gaze he had worn the previous night.

"I'm not a fool, Severus."

"I don't know what you mean-," he began, scowling as convincingly as he could under the circumstances, but he knew that it was over.

"I've known since New Years. She smelled like you that morning, and you smelled like her. And the way you look at her, too; that alone would have told me." Lupin was looking back at the hair now, face unreadable as he scrutinized it.

"It's the same way you used to look at Lily. Good day, Severus." With that, Lupin released the hair, turned, and walked away, leaving Severus to wonder if he was in very deep trouble or not. And also why he hadn't been in very deep trouble already.

* * *

Jas was prattling on about some cute Hufflepuff whom she had helped with Transfiguration that day; Sasha barely heard her, as most of her mind was busy reliving last night. She ate breakfast systematically, making the occasional sound of approval or curiosity when she felt it was expected. It was fortunate that she was known to not be morning person, as it excused her glazed expression and vague responses quite nicely.

After breakfast, Jas left to find said Hufflepuff, leaving Sasha to her own devices. She found herself ambling around the halls, occasionally humming or singing softly to herself when no one was around. She stopped at a window ledge, remembering when she had baited Decoste into insulting Severus at that very place. There wasn't much of a view that morning – the weather had been cold and foggy for weeks – but she stared out of it anyway, tugging her cloak tighter around her to ward off the chill. Mist blanketed the lake and hid all but the tallest trees in the Forbidden Forest from sight; she tried to make out the bench by the lake, but failed.

There was a soft scuffing noise behind her, as of someone carefully trying to announce their presence by scraping their shoe across the flagstones. She turned to find Lupin standing behind her with the same mild expression that he always wore, hands in the pockets of his tattered robes.

_Bugger. Act normal, act normal… Act? Me? Who am I kidding?_ she thought, giving him what she hoped was a warm smile. "Professor Lupin, good morning. How are you?" she said, praying that her voice wasn't too cheerful and thanking Merlin for not putting on perfume after she showered. With any luck, his only clue to her identity last night would not be an issue this morning.

He shrugged and stepped over to join her in front of the window. "I'm afraid I slept badly last night, but I'm all right," he said, which made her heart stop for a moment.

Ordering herself not to react to what would, in other circumstances, be a perfectly innocuous statement, she replied, "I'm sorry, sir."

"I should think so."

Her heart dropped through her toes and into the dungeons. Turning her head to look up at him, she met the same penetrating, almost omniscient stare that the wolf had given her last night. Time to drop the act.

"I'll just go and pack my bags, shall I?" she said, attempting a wobbly smile.

"Why?" he said. He placed one hand on the window ledge and leaned on it, never taking his eyes off of her. "Because of your relationship with Severus? Sasha, I've known about that since he took you out of the storm on New Years. I was watching the map, you see," he continued, taking in her astonished face, "to make sure that he found you. Imagine my surprise when he took you back to the dungeons and you didn't leave until the next morning."

"Why didn't you tell Professor McGonagall, then?" she asked, determined to get all the information from him that she could. This was very confusing – if he had known all along, why was she not expelled and Severus not fired? Why was she not being scolded for carrying on with her teacher? Or for assisting in what was basically a robbery?

A sigh escaped him and he turned to stare out the window for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. When he replied, he addressed the panes of glass.

"Sasha, you know I am a werewolf. When I attended Hogwarts, special accommodations were made for me. Many people either lied for me or simply held their tongues about what I was so I could be educated and happy. Rules were bent and broken for me, even though my condition made me a danger to others. Given all that, I thought it might be a tad hypocritical for me to inform the Headmistress of your… activities with Severus." Now he looked back at her and shrugged again before he continued crossing his arms.

"You were both consenting adults, and as far as I could see, your relationship was harming nobody. You were both very discreet – though I expected nothing less of Severus – and there was no real _reason_ to report you. Besides, there were some unexpected bonuses – Severus has been easier to deal with these past few weeks than ever, and it was rather amusing to watch you two trying so hard to keep it a secret when I already knew." A smile tugged at his lips when he said that and he stood upright, putting his hands back in his pockets.

She couldn't believe what she had just heard, but coming from someone as grounded and honest as Lupin, it seemed almost sensible. Deciding not to question good fortune, she simply said, "I'll get you back your map tomorrow, sir. And thank you."

He smiled fully then. "I'd appreciate that. And one more thing-," he said, as she turned to go find Severus and explain everything. She paused, looking back at him, wondering what else he could possibly ask her at this point.

"Do you love him?"

There was a very long pause, as Sasha regarded Lupin and mulled over her answer. To her surprise, it was not a particularly hard question for her to answer.

"No," she said. "But I could."

He nodded, as if this was exactly what he expected her to say, and then turned and walked away.

She ran into Severus halfway down the corridor; he was walking at top speed and had clearly been looking for her.

"Sasha, Lupin knows! He-,"

"-just spoke to me. And he's not going to tell, Severus."

That seemed to bring him up short; he stared at her for a minute before scowling.

"Now I suppose you'll want me to go and tell him I'm thankful for his discretion," he growled, crossing his arms.

"Severus, if you did that, he'd probably report you for acting bizarrely and ask Madam Pomfrey to ensure you were feeling all right!" she said, chuckling at the look on Lupin's face if Severus ever thanked him for something. Checking the corridor to make sure no one was around, she quickly stepped forward and yanked him down for a kiss, which he responded to with vigor.

"Let's take this somewhere more private, shall we?" he said, when they broke apart, both panting heavily. Too breathless to speak, she nodded and released him so he could get a good head start; she would follow at a good distance.

With a flick of his billowing black robes, he vanished around the corner; she waited a minute before heading after him as fast as her short legs would carry her.

_And so Persephone decided to go down to Hades as often as possible, and bugger the consequences_, she thought, a smile breaking onto her face. Pomegranates were not the easiest fruit in the world to eat, but damn if they weren't worth all the trouble.

The End

**A/N: And they lived (reasonably) happily ever after. Tell me what you think happens in a review. Thank you so much to everyone for reading this! It was a lot of fun to write, but I'm still glad it's over. Thanks to my wonderful beta, Book of Moonrevel, for hunting out my grammar errors and being very supportive throughout the year that it took me to write this. **


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